Pictor Ignotus
by MusicalCharlatan
Summary: As an unknown painter manipulates the colors of his masterpiece, so shall the Valar. Maybe that's why they're trying to play matchmaker with the Prince of Mirkwood? ::slightly AU: legomance::
1. MamaCoddle Meter

Pictor Ignotus

Chapter One—Mama-Coddle Meter

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A/N: Hello, everyone, and welcome to my story, which I must say, is of a type that I've never ventured into before; in other words, it's in MY realm. Not Middle Earth. Well, let's not say that just yet, but I will say that it's Legolas that does the traveling this time. Yes, I know, it's another one of those Done-to-Death story lines that everyone wants to experiment with, but just calm down and maybe you'll find something interesting in my little tale; if not the charming tapestry of my own made-up, completely original story, then perhaps the life I give to these characters. Now I won't say there won't be any fluff or cliché ness in this story, because, no matter how hard I try, stuff like that tends to slip out every once and a while, even though I do my best to repress it. This story is not meant to be a full-fledged novel or be held up against the light to the masterpieces that Tolkien created. I won't even kid myself on my talent comparing to his in any way, so please don't expect this to be fully canon all the time or conform to every single preference you have as a reader, because I'm different than you, and I write differently than everyone else. This isn't an excuse for bad grammar or anything, I'm simply saying that this story is probably not going to meet your full expectations of the perfect fic since it probably won't even fulfill my own. This is why I don't like flames. They accomplish nothing. They don't help the writer in any way, shape, or form. But if you happen to have any constructive criticism I shall be glad to take it (not flames disguised as constructive criticism.), especially since that's another reason I write stories on fanfiction: to improve. So, without further ado, I present to you my story: Pictor Ignotus, meaning: painter unknown.

Disclaimer-Hey, guess what? I don't own Legolas or any other piece of Tolkien's magnum opus; surprise, surprise.

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I was halfway tempted to just let my head smack the steering wheel in front of me as I wearily turned my blue pathfinder right onto the crater-ridden dirt road. The small SUV jumped shakily and dust kicked up in the air behind me. That in itself was enough to remind me I was no longer in the city anymore. It was relieving, yet at the same time it only reminded me of why I was here, and I quickly batted away those worries, knowing full well they would not help me in the least. Instead, I watched the passing scenery with some awe. On either side of me great oaks grew tall, their branches hanging over the road; so close to me they nearly scraped the car's top. Light spilled through their canopy of nature giving an ethereal look to the road before me, and I marveled at the beauty of the country. Vines also seemed to be pretty abundant; ground cover that grasped onto the trees and climbed up, providing even more green beauty. Past the oak trees I could see a long, orange valley that had little occupation except for more random oak trees and some carefree horses that grazed at will.

That made me smile, at least. Maybe I'd ride a few times while I was down here…Lord knows I really needed to after not having sat on a horse in over four years. I suddenly became aware of reality again, and the light sound of my radio playing seemed to be the cause.

"…Wake me up when Septem—"

..Click.. I hated that song.

I was getting close to the house now. Flicking open my cell phone, I hit speed-dial and waited as it rang. Two rings later, a kind, old woman's voice answered, obviously pleased at her caller.

"I'm nearly there now, grandma. I just called to let you know."

"'Course, dear. Clarence is outside near the barn by now, so, if you would, go fetch him real quick 'fore he tries to walk back on that bad knee o' his. Old, stubborn coot won't admit to it botherin' him, but I know better, yes, I do."

"Alright, I will," I couldn't contain the slight amusement in my voice as grandma spoke in her irritated, yet loving voice, "I'll get him. See you in a few minutes. Love you."

Speeding up a little, I watched as the road made a turn and up ahead the trees cleared slightly and a large wooden building came into view. It was an old barn bereft of paint, though at some time it may not have been. A similarly old tractor was driving into the large doors near the front, its huge tires churning slowly before it disappeared into the barn with a rumble that I could hear even in my SUV.

_grandpa_, I thought with great fondness. I'd missed everything to do with this place so much. Funny how I hadn't even realized my own longing for it in such a lengthy amount of time. My grandparents' place spoke of childhood, freedom, carelessness, bliss, and, yes, it also had a tinge of sorrow to it. However, despite its bittersweet greeting, it was already a welcome change in atmosphere from that of my own unorganized and cluttered life in Atlanta.

Beside the barn was another building less than half its size: the bunkhouse, my temporary abode. It was pleasant enough; filed with memorabilia my grandmother had gathered from garage sales and other places over the years. None of it matched, of course, but that only added to its homely feel, or at least for me it did.

The Pathfinder drove up the rest of the driveway leading to the barn. Parking next to the barn doors, I got out of the car and walked--covering my mouth with my hand because of the infernal dust--into the barn's open doors.

"grandpa!" I called, looking into the gloom of the barn with only a few slants of sunlight shining in through old boards in the barn to aid my eyesight. A crash was heard, and I smiled as I heard my grandfather cursing like a sailor at some helpless, inanimate object.

"That you, Iorwen?"

I winced at the sound of my name spilling out in his heavy southern accent. I loved my grandpa, but he sure knew how to butcher someone's name. But then again, so did everyone else. I'd yet to meet someone who could correctly pronounce my name and give it its actual meaning: "beautiful." It also meant, "lord", and, I must say, I was a little fonder of that meaning than the other. I'd always liked to think of myself as being a leader.

"Yes, it's me," I replied, assuring him.

"This damn Garden Hog always gets in my goddamn way…" He proceeded to go into another cussing rampage.

I was suddenly worried, "You didn't hurt you knee did you, grandpa? Grandma sent me here first to get you 'cause she said you were having difficulty with it…"

"That woman's just done en got a bee in her bonnet, s'all. There ain't nuthin' wrong with my knee. I'm just as fit as I was forty years ago." More inaudible grumbling, and began to remember with more clarity now why I loved him so much. He suddenly emerged from behind the tractor, his mission—whatever it had been—now ended, so that he could see me. I hugged him quickly, relishing his distinct grandpa smell: tobacco (not particularly a wonderful smell, but it was his), burnt oak, the scent of horse, and circus peanuts: his favorite candy in the whole world. He ate them like them like most old people took pills. He constantly had a pack with him, usually when he was planting the fields or feeding the horses. He hugged me back hard, and a smile was on his ruddy façade, "It's good to see you here again, girl. Your grandma's near gone crazy not seein' any o' her grandchildren."

"Well, I'm going to fix that," I said, knowing that I needed her company again just as much as she wanted mine. He put an arm around my shoulder, and we ambled over to my SUV, though he looked reluctantly and distastefully at it. Again, muttering something about "that daggome worryin' woman."

We climbed into the car and continued the drive to the house, which was really just a quarter of a mile away. It came into view soon; a charming two-story farm home that wouldn't have looked out of a place in a story like Little House on the Prairie. Painted white with green trim and shutters, and flowerbeds that encircled most of its perimeter, it all came together for an image that could leave one gaping, wondering if they were really in the 21st century, for here time seemed to stand still. Not many other areas were blessed with this attribute, and the perfect couple living inside it only added to its appeal. There was a chicken coop off to the house's right, which is where I spotted grandma, heading back from the coop with a grin on her face and a basket in her hands. Grandma was the exact image of my hopes for physical appearance in later life. Her white hair was long and pulled up into a bun as she worked. Her smooth, slightly wrinkled skin was warm to the touch, and a glimmer of laughter was always in her vibrant green eyes, only waiting to be released at the slightest joy. Slim of figure from bustling around in work so much, one could still see the old woman's youthful beauty, like as though it was only shrouded behind a gossamer curtain.

I parked the car again under their small carport. Grandma met us and I hugged her warmly. She patted me on the cheek fondly before telling me how glad she was to see me.

"Lord knows I could use some more female company around here, it just being me and this cantankerous male."

I failed to conceal my amusement when I heard grandpa give a low "harrumph."

Upon entering the house, I was overcome with such a wave of memories that for a moment all I could do was stand in the doorway drinking in the beautiful sight of my grandparents' home.

"Well, come on in, sweetheart. I've already got dinner ready and I don't want it gettin' cold."

I nodded dumbly, overcome with the sentiment that had just run over me like a head-on with another car.

grandma's cooking was, of course, just as good as I remembered it. I stuffed myself full of rolls, green beans, home-style sweet corn, and beef. Once finished, I leaned back in my high-backed chair gratefully and took another draught of tea.

"You ready, girl?" grandpa asked, quite unexpectedly, I must tell you.

"For what…?" I asked tentatively, wondering if I'd completely forgotten something important and whether grandpa would be angry with that.

"To go saddle up Fara. I figured you'd be wantin' to ride her soon enough. And what better day to do it than now? There's an awfully beautiful sunset comin' on; I can see its color peekin' through the top o' that window." He pointed to the small kitchen window over the sink, and sure enough, hues of pink and orange were seeping through the glass and painting that part of the room in a delicate radiance. Finding the idea enchanting, I hastily nodded and turned to my grandfather with a look of delight on my face. "I'd love to."

And that was all he needed to hear.

Standing up from the table, he brushed himself off promptly and looked at me steadily. "Well, I'll just go bring her in from the pasture. You go on into the barn and find that blasted saddle. There should also be a halter, and you can configurate a bridle outta that by just snappin' a lead rope onto it. I've completely forgotten where all that stuff is. After all, I ain't gone ridin' in quite a while now." He laughed wryly. And I just looked through the table where I knew his left knee was.

Obliging to his request, we left grandma (after sincerely thanking her for the meal) and drove back to the barn, observing the magnificent sunset behind us with some amount of wonder. When we reached the barn, I parked the car in front of the bunkhouse and grandpa headed out to the field where the horses were still grazing and laying down in the soft, yellow grass. I heard him whistling shrilly for Fara, and I made my way into the barn searching vainly for a light. It wasn't dark yet, but the barn was placed at such an angle that sun light hardly ever filled it.

Over near the unused stalls, I saw an old sawhorse and wandered past it into its depths where grandpa usually dumped all of the tack. I found a halter that seemed to be the head-size of Fara and clipped a very old and dingy-blue lead rope onto it, and then tied it on the other side. I wandered around then, just looking anywhere for a blanket and saddle. I found the blanket on top of an old trunk that held some of grandma's old clothes, and the saddle, (which was in rather bad shape) I found in a stall next to the one from earlier. Right about the time I found it, I heard the dull clip-clop of hooves and turned around to see grandpa leading in my favorite mare. She was a chestnut Arabian, though not fully, with a white star across her forehead and a long, tangled red mane and tail. Her slender frame was that of a racehorse, bred upon the hot deserts, and elegant to a fault. Fara was ridiculously trusting, an odd trait for what was known to be a very high-strung horse breed, and, instead of being led by grandpa, just followed him.

I sauntered up to her leisurely and rubbed her smooth head, carefully moving her wispy forelock back to its place. Grandpa and I soon had her ready, and, with grace and skill that I'd forgot I had, swung myself up into the saddle with no help. It felt good to have a horse beneath me; it was like regaining another body part lost to you for years. And with the feeling of Fara's strong body beneath me, my own body began to recapture that horsemanship skill which I'd overlooked for so long. Taking the makeshift reins in hand, I turned the giant animal out of the barn, with grandpa following close behind. I looked towards him when I suddenly remembered that he needed a ride back home. "grandpa, do you want me to take you back to the house real quickly. It won't be a problem—"

"No. I'll just get back on my own, girl. I'll take it slow; don't worry yourself none. A few feet of walking ain't gonna hurt my knee." He pointed at Fara, "Now go enjoy yourself, Iorwen. And don't forget to get back before it's too long after dark."

I smiled gratefully at him and nodded. "Alright, grandpa. But if grandma gets bent out of shape it's gonna be on your head, okay?"

He chuckled slightly and slapped Fara on the rump, causing the normally calm mare to bolt towards the field. I emitted a rather embarrassing squeak, but quickly reclaimed my grip by leaning down over the horse and just enjoying the unifying sensation of horse and man together as one.

The sun was hanging midway over the Earth, preparing for its final descent into the horizon, its flaming head sending an orange glow over the valley and tracing the trees in a golden haze of light. Pink splashes randomly littered the sky, and, for a moment, my mind was no longer focused on the animal taking me over the plain, but the land I was in.

I suddenly remembered one of grandpa's sayings: "Ain't nuthin' like an east Texas sunset."

And how right he was…

I'd seen much of the world in my lifetime, but no matter where I went, I always found myself comparing those places to my southern home and deciding that they paled in comparison to its untold grace and majesty. Of course, I was liable to be a bit biased...in fact I knew I was, but I couldn't make myself care. Maybe this was why Texans were so ridiculously patriotic?

Overall, it was just a pleasant evening and there was a light breeze that whipped my auburn hair about in a most delightful way. Fara was as eager as I was to enter the deep parts of the ranch. We reached the trees in a matter of seconds and suddenly we were speeding through the copse. I ducked my head even lower to avoid the branches that seemed to be dangerously near my head and turned Fara further right, remembering a particular place I wished to see. Pulling back slightly on the animal's reins, I reduced the horse's crazy speed and she reluctantly complied. I really had no wish to completely brain myself on a passing bough.

The location I was heading for was a small spot I'd found when I was little. Ironically enough, I'd been on Fara then too, and, from its discovery on, it became a place of unequalled splendor to me. I'm not entirely sure why, except for the fact that it was quiet, secluded, and there was a small spring that ran through it. But there's hardly ever a real reason for most of things we like, dislike, do, don't do, and so on.

Usually it took only about seven to ten minutes to reach it if I went around the big oak tree that had the swing on it, and I was prepared to enjoy every single one of those minutes.

There are few things in this world that I think of that compare to the soothing sound of the forest, and I was quickly reminded of this as my horse and I rode through the sublime peace that was the woods. However, my peace was shattered when a very-much-so unbidden and unwanted memory flashed through my mind: hide-and-go-seek, my cousins, Sonya, and then the search. When I was very young, about eight if I recall correctly, we'd been to my grandparents for Thanksgiving and all the children had played hide-and-go-seek on the ranch. Nobody was supposed to go past the bunkhouse, but Sonya, my little sister, hadn't listened and had got herself lost on the giant ranch. The search that had followed had been one of the most agonizing days of my life. We hadn't found her until the next day somewhere around five, after we'd called the police and a search party had been organized. One hundred forty acres was a lot of land to clear, and there was still the possibility she'd gotten off the ranch somehow. That had been the worst prospect. What if she'd been kidnapped somehow? And then there was the overall fact that it was perilous for any child to be alone and unaided on a huge ranch without any food or knowledge of how to get home. When she had been found, the relief had been the most wonderful sentiment, and that feeling was what I tried to remember now: knowing it was over, knowing that she was safe. However…Sonya wasn't safe anymore

..Pain.. No more, you foolish woman, I thought desperately. Forget the past. Forget. Forgetting is the only thing that can help you now.

But my mind was not easily swayed. It mercilessly flashed pictures of the family I had had but taken for granted. They weren't here anymore, well, they might as well not be. All I had now were grandma and grandpa. Mom died when I was little and now my father had suffered two strokes that would more than likely take his life soon. My grandparents would have to watch their child die. It wouldn't be the other way around. And in that thought I was able to suddenly forget my own selfish misery and think on how upset my grandparents had to be. They too were nearing their end. How horrible must it be to see this happen? Could they not end their life in peace knowing they'd raised wonderful children and that they were still living out their lives? My father was only sixty-three years old. He and my mother had been 40 upon my birth and now I nearing my twenty-fourth birthday. This was the thought that made me determined to stop thinking at all costs. Simply focus on what is ahead of you. You still have your own life to live…it simply won't be spent with parents guiding you.

Disgusting myself with my lack of mental will, I sighed and tried vainly to focus on something else, anything else. To my luck, my brain seemed to pick out something of a more desirable nature and I began to reminisce of my first kiss. It had been in the clearing. It was really quite romantic, come to think of it. I'd been about thirteen years old and my mother's old friend, who had currently been dating my own father, had come with us to the ranch and brought her two young sons with her. Jackson was fourteen, and in my opinion, had been the sum of everything I could have ever wanted in a boy. It hadn't even occurred to me that it would be really weird if our parents ever got married, but thankfully, they didn't anyway. At the time, I had been certain I was in love with that boy. The memory made me snort unattractively.

Teenager. I shook my head and realized, with some surprise, that I'd finally reached the clearing. Everything was exactly as I remembered it, except for something that was only marginally different. There was a missing piece. Something had changed about it. It wasn't until much later on that I would realize that the change was of my own making.

Dismounting, I let Fara's lead rope fall to the ground, confident she wouldn't desert me and run back to the fields where the other horses were. She instead just ambled up to the rivulet and began lapping up water. The small stream was even smaller than usual. There'd been a bit of a drought I'd heard grandma mention earlier, and, sure enough, there was hardly even a trickle of water in the stream now. It was still quite peaceful though, and I perched myself upon the log I'd used for a seat as a little girl. It felt so natural to be there. Natural. Now, there was something I'd missed. Who could say that everything they did in their life now was natural? That living in an overpopulated city was natural? Not many, I'd wager. And for me, being back in East Texas, sitting in the center of a childhood memory, well…that was natural. If anything was, then this was.

Sliding my back onto the ground and letting my head rest on the log, I closed my eyes and listened to the forest, reveling in the peace it brought to me. Nothing bad happened here. Nothing.

I must say though…I was quite perturbed with myself when my eyes fluttered open to see the unfriendly darkness creeping into the trees and the crickets emerging to make their music of the night. I felt itchiness on my face and inwardly knew that the log had left its mark all over the side of my face and along my arm. Cursing quietly, I looked about frantically for Fara, hoping to all that was holy that she hadn't run off and left me with no way of getting back save for walking. Fortunately, it looked like she had simply given in to her own slumber and was standing near the brook with her head low.

Scrambling up to a standing position, I headed over towards Fara's position and began to stroke her neck. She let out a soft snort at that; evidently pleased that we were finally leaving and nudged me in my side. I yanked on the girth strap quickly; making sure the saddle hadn't gotten loose. (I mentally felt sorry for Fara for having to stand so long with a big, huge saddle on her) Mounting shakily, I made my stiff legs swing over Fara's wide back and rolled my neck a few times to loosen up the joints.

Now, I'm not particularly fond of the darkness, and my mind was hurriedly reminding me of this as I turned the Arabian back towards the barn. The night around me was quite stifling and I hurried Fara to a trot, eager to get back to bed soon with a warm quilt to sleep with. The horse obliged to my requests happily. Thankfully, grandma had turned on the light in the bunkhouse earlier and left it on, so it wasn't long before I saw its cheery light through the thick oaks in front of me. Fara's pace unconsciously picked up speed, and I sighed in relief as the barn and bunkhouse came back into view. Before long, we were both back in the barn and I was unsaddling Fara as quickly as possible, the thought of a shower, and then bed, fresh in my mind. I decided that it seemed a better idea to just let Fara sleep in the barn that night, and I let her into one of the less-damaged stalls with a few big handfuls of hay to accompany her. Closing the stall door, I picked up the cumbersome saddle and turned to put it on top of the sawhorse. That's when it happened.

At first, everything was just disturbingly quiet. No crickets chirping loudly, no sound of Fara chomping on hay, or even the peaceful sound of the breeze whistling through the barn. It was simply silent. Deadly silent. But then…

I dropped the saddle and nearly screeched with the pain that it sent shooting up through my leg. However, I quickly forgot about it when my mind registered the deadly crash that had reverberated through the barn. It sounded like a trunk full of books had just dropped onto the roof of the tractor. A few more crashes sounded after the initial hit, accompanied by a very male-like groan.

Terrified beyond my wits, I just stood there trembling, ignoring the pain in my foot and trying to be still out of terror. I was pretty certain by now that the barn I was standing in--the barn that had been empty of anyone else earlier except for one lone horse--was now occupied by another being, and I was also halfway certain it was a male.

Determined not to explore further without light, I rushed back to the bunkhouse and fumbled through a closet looking for the flashlight I knew grandma had. Slowly, and might I add, reluctantly, I headed back to the barn, shining the wavering light into the barn in a wide circle. "Is anyone there?" I ventured as loud as I dared, horrified at the meek tone to my voice. "Anyone?"

Nothing.

Flashlight beam shaking none too slightly, I made my way around the tractor towards the sound's origin. I dropped the flashlight, caught it mid-drop, and almost ran out of the barn. "Holy shit."

I gazed wide-eyed at the ground, my eyes staring at what appeared to be…a blonde version of the god Eros lying on the ground in the middle of my grandparents' barn. He was quite tall, with a thin, lithe body and white skin that seemed to glow in the darkness of the barn, despite the artificial luminescence of my flashlight. He had apparently fallen right off the tractor and landed rather awkwardly on his side, one arm twisted underneath his frame.

Suddenly feeling like an asthmatic kid devoid of an inhaler, I tried to assess my situation in a calm manner. Okay, so there was an unconscious man in the middle of the barn with a large knot on his head…so what? My irritating second mind cut in, What the Hell do you mean, so what?! There's a man in this barn, probably a trespasser, who just flopped off the tractor like a damn bouncy ball, and that's all you can think of!

I was so in lack of an answer by now that I was looking back towards grandma and grandpa's house frenetically. Should I tell grandpa? No. grandpa would whip out his shotgun; determined only to make a hole through the head of a man he thought was a trespasser. I couldn't let that happen. This man didn't look evil, and there was just something about his circumstances that made me unwilling to hand him over to my grandfather's merciless grasp. He looked helpless, and God forgive me, but I'm a wimp when it comes to helpless creatures. If I ever saw any being, human or otherwise that was in some type of misery, I wouldn't hesitate to coddle it like a mother would a newborn baby. It was one of my undying habits that I simply could not get rid of. And, sure enough, as I gazed at the vulnerable man lying bruised and wounded on the ground, I felt that sentiment welling up in me again, unbidden and uncaring of what type of man this was.

Groaning, I grabbed Eros' arms (for that is what I shall currently call him) and began to lift him to his feet, and, he, still quite unconscious. My mama-coddle meter rising, I tried to heft up his body enough to where I could at least drag him comfortably out of the barn and into the bunkhouse. He proved to be heavier than his slender frame voiced, and I found myself struggling mightily to keep him from falling back onto the ground. Getting irritated, I wrapped his arms around my neck from the back and held onto them harshly, lugging his body, with his feet dragging limply across the ground, through the door into my abode.

The bunkhouse is pretty small, but grandpa had managed to attach a bathroom and very small kitchen to it with running water and air-conditioning. Pulling Eros' body over to the small couch in the foyer/bedroom, I laid his top half onto it and then lifted his legs on directly after. I was slightly amazed by the softness of the fabric his outfit consisted of. But whatever he was wearing, it seemed too plain to be regular clothes. It looked oddly like pajamas or something of that nature. A very simple, linen-like shirt and some loose, comfortable-looking green pants. He had no shoes and that only seemed to add to my theory. How odd…

Suddenly remembering the welt on his head, I pressed my fingers against his scalp to find where it was and then felt something sticky. There was another cut along the back of his head along his crown. Scowling, I went and found the first-aid kit grandma had unnecessarily equipped the bunkhouse with. I was really quite glad now that grandma was so anal about these types of things. There was some hydrogen peroxide and I quickly used it to clean the wound, surprised to see that it didn't even make Eros flinch. Man, I thought pitifully, He's out cold. That must have been quite the fall. This genius was lucky he hadn't broken something.

Standing there staring at him, I wondered to myself what must have happened. Why in the hell would random guy be in my grandfather's barn? Maybe he worked here? grandpa had hired some guys a few years back. I could recall a few of them living in the overhead loft in the barn, so maybe that was it? He'd just rolled out... But it still didn't explain why the barn was still in such bad shape, or the reason why my grandparents hadn't told me about him, or why he looked much too old to be a hired hand, unless he was just down on his luck completely. Usually the stable boys were just that: boys! This guy could pass for twenty-five.

Sighing, I put some gauze over the small cut then laid an ice pack over top of that and let his head rest against it so it would stay in place. Satisfied with my work, I looked over the rest of him to make sure I hadn't missed any other injuries. He would probably be very sore and bruised for a while, but there was really little I could do about that. Happy with my work, I yawned and locked the bunkhouse door, making sure that if one of my grandparents came over tomorrow they wouldn't walk in to see some man lying on the bunkhouse couch. I glanced over at the door to the bathroom and my body groaned for the hot waters of a calming shower. Peeking over at Eros who was still out, I went into the bathroom and locked that door on my way in as well. I could only hope he wouldn't wake up during my shower time.

The heat of the water was only too wonderful, and it helped to relax those stiff muscles I'd slept on in the woods. As I got out, I wrapped a pink towel around myself and looked at the mirror. Those stupid wood markings on my skin from sleeping on the log were almost completely gone now and for that I was thankful. My skin had cleared up from my latest breakout and, that in itself, was enough to boost my self-esteem. But still, my stormy gray eyes looked back at me dully, lacking that light they had once held. I looked older, more worn by time and experience.

Sighing, I rubbed the towel into my hair, making it as dry as possible and dressed in the baggy pajamas I'd plopped onto the sink. After getting dressed, I opened the bathroom door tentatively, hoping to God that Eros hadn't woken up. What a wonder this boy was. What was his true story? I'd be very interested to know in the morning.

Ugh, no more thinking, just sleep. I stumbled over to the small cot in the room, plopped another thin pillow on top of the first one and curled up in the warmth of one of grandma's quilt.

My mind still wanted to interrogate me about my lack of fear regarding this random man and all the unknown factors related to him, but I didn't feel like answering as I slipped into a very deep, troubled sleep.

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A/N: My God! I'm finally through. Eleven pages on word! I'm feeling pretty good about myself here. At any rate, there's the first chapter, now please go review. -Smiles huge cheesy grin-


	2. Damn you, Tolkien

_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter Two—Damn You, Tolkien

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A/N: Sorry for the wait, my friends. But this week was homecoming week, I had about two days where I was pretty much banned from the comp. Oh! And, not to mention, at times I just didn't feel like writing anything because my computer likes to restart itself randomly while I'm writing. That always makes me a happy person. Anyway, thanks for all the reviews people!

Fiona McKinnon- Thank you for the compliment, dearie! And, of course, I'm trying to hurry on the story.

Crecy- I'm glad this is at the least: interesting. And now you get to see what'll happen.

Rythmic Blot-Aw, not you. Oy vey. Thanks for the review anyway, though. Just kidding'. I love ya, Taylor. Oh, and it actually isn't anything like your property in my mind, oddly enough. I just had this predetermined picture in my mind and this is how it came out.

The Lady Romance- -blushes- You are far too kind, my lady. Oh, and you must update too, fiend!!

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As soon as I woke up, I immediately found myself wishing I hadn't. The room was dark except for a small bit of light coming out of the bathroom where I'd left the door open and the light on. It was very warm, and my quilt was slightly twisted in my legs from kicking in my sleep. All of this would have been fine had it not been for the serrated kitchen knife pressed up against my jugular. Resisting the urge to gulp or even scream, I turned my head to the right slightly and was paralyzed by the determined and extremely dangerous blue orbs that gazed back at me in the dark of the early morning. _Aw, shit. Hired hand, my ass!_

Mentally kicking myself for being so foolish the night before, I watched quietly as Eros pressed the kitchen utensil a bit closer. "Where am I?" he said stiffly, "I demand to know."

He had an odd accent and I was hard-put to place it, but I quickly sorted out my priorities when he gave an irritated hiss at my hesitation and edged the knife ever-so-slowly across my throat, pricking highly sensitive nerves.

"Etoile," I gasped, new fear seeping into my consciousness, nearly suffocating me with its potency.

He frowned at that, but only pressed onward with more questions. "Who are you, and how did I come by this place?"

Such a strange accent….

Despite my fear, I found myself eying him oddly when he ended his question. No, he wouldn't remember how he got in here, now would he? "I found you in the barn. You were unconscious and I brought you here to let you sleep." I replied generically, hoping he would forget his first question which had unnerved me.

He frowned again. "You evaded my first question. Who are you?" He asked again in a stern voice that made me all the more nervous. Knowing that telling this man my name had to be folly of the worst kind, I quickly came up with some girl's name I vaguely remembered from back in high school.

"It's Kate…. Kate Henderson."

He didn't fall for it. He immediately picked up the falseness in my voice. I realized instantly that this was not a man to be fooled with.

"You lie," he seethed, with a new anger in his voice. "How can I know anything you say to me is not such?"

"With all due respect, my Lord," I scoffed, "You are holding a knife to my throat. I don't think I've really got much of a choice."

"How can I know this?"

His question confused me, but after a moment I realized what it was he was saying. How could he know if I was helpless or not? There could be others nearby and I was just waiting for them, or perhaps I had some other complex, duplicitous plan in mind. As long as I knew he wasn't going to slice me, I had opportunities to deceive him.

Or, at least, that was what I _thought _he meant.

Trying not to gulp against the uncomfortable blade, I fought against the dread that was filling inside of me, looking up the white ceiling of the bunkhouse in desperation. I was going to die. I was going to die and all because I was a softy when it came to helpless beings! I was such a worthless and weak woman at times.

I looked back into his stare and suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of intimidation. That look undressed my interior like no person could ever hope to; not even my father had been able to pull off this look. But then again, I _was_ quite terrified of the knife that was suddenly my deciding factor between life and death.

"I would not normally be so threatening to a woman," he looked slightly remorseful, but at the moment I could have really cared less. "But my circumstances have changed. I have no idea where I am, how I came to be here, or how to return to my home. And the only person I can find who has any feasible correlation to all of these unfortunate events is you. Now tell me, Kate," he placed enough emphasis on the name that I knew he didn't believe in it in the least, "what can you say to me now that I could possibly find any truth to?"

I actually gulped now. "I don't understand what's going on. I just thought you were a hand working for my grandfather or something. You were hurt, I brought you in. Of course, now I'm rather sorry I did. Perhaps I should have left you out there in the barn with that knot on your head."

I was getting very desperate by now. But it only took me a moment before I realized that there was little more need to worry. His cold blue eyes, so full of anger, fear, and determined will just moments before began to dim into something lighter; something more trusting. He was receding slightly and I wasn't sure what I'd done to warrant it.

"Please," I whispered, "You have to believe me when I say that I have no idea how you got here or why. I only wanted to help."

The knife didn't move, but Eros closed his eyes as though in pain and breathed out a long, slow breath. He seemed to be debating inside himself, and I let him have his time to think. Not long after, his eyes reopened and the kitchen knife slid off my skin along with a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. Placing the knife on the table in between the couch and the cot, he turned back to me, looking decidedly chastised somehow.

"I believe you." He said quietly. All I could do was breathe a thank you.

He stood up and turned towards the bunkhouse door, while I sat up on the cot, silently wrapping the blanket around my form.

"I suppose I should take my leave," he said resolutely, but I could tell he had no wish to do so. He looked like a lost child, with his face so sad and fearful all the sudden.

"Well…wait." I said, a new suspicion rising in me. He couldn't just leave after trespassing on my grandparents' property and threatening me in a very illegal manner. What did he think he was doing? Just because he was supposedly sorry didn't mean he could just go gallivanting off to heaven only knew where!

"Who are you? What were you doing in the barn last night?" Simple enough.

Here he was. I'd tried to help him (and against mine, or anybody's, better judgment, might I add), he'd threatened me with a knife, questioned my honesty when it was _I _who should have been questioning _him_, and after all this, he suddenly wanted to go running off? Now that I knew the danger was gone, I was feeling a good bit more bold. I wanted answers, and I wanted them now.

"It is Legolas." His face, which had previously been on the floor in thought, whipped up suddenly, "My name is Legolas Thranduilion."

The situation suddenly felt absolutely ridiculous. Me sitting there on the cot in my pajamas, him standing all proudly with his strange clothes and even stranger dialect, telling me that fictional character name like as though it meant something. At first, I wasn't sure how to feel. I kind of wanted to laugh, but that was quickly overridden by anger when I realized what kind of fool this man had to mistake me for. What, did he think I'd never read the books? Was this his idea of fun? Falling out of barns, scaring the hell out of defenseless women, and then claiming he was some fictitious character created by a long-dead British novelist?

"What?!" I blurted out angrily, "Oh, for the love of God. How stupid do you think I am?! Legolas?! Legolas, the fuckin' prince of Mirkwood, member of the Fellowship of the Ring? You're really a piece of work, you know that? Who in the hell tries to pass themselves off as a fictional _elf_? Was that seriously the first thing you could think of? I mean, hell, you could have used any number of names. There are probably fewer people who know who _John Bonham_ is for Christ's sakes! And his name actually sounds like it could be from this hemisphere!"

Legolas frowned. Despite my tirade, he appeared more confused than anything. There was none of the shame I was expecting at having been caught in the act or even any anger. He just looked extremely confused.

I ignored him as I stood up, intently heading for the door. I should have told grandpa about this guy last night. I'd already wasted too much time as it was. He was very obviously a lunatic, and I needed to get away from him and tell my grandparents so they could get him off our property.

I'd barely moved past him when a vice-like grip caught my arm and stopped me from heading toward the door. "Get off me, you--"

Eros didn't heed the anger in my voice, only pulled back his hair, walked into the bathroom light and revealed to me a pair of perfectly pointed ears.

Hardly daring to believe my eyes, I searched the ears over, looking for some sign of them being fake. Legolas gazed levelly at me, allowing me to look the ears over in the light coming out of the bathroom.

"I know not why I should be required to prove this to you, but I _am_ of the Eldar," he stated, looking not at all unsure of himself as I gaped at him, "The blood of my father, King Thranduil of Eryn Lasgalen, runs in my veins. And I wish some explanation of you, Kate Henderson."

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A/N: Okay, so it's rather pathetic and short right now. But I just felt this was a good place to end off the chapter. PLEASE REVIEW, PEOPLE! I see all these people putting me on their favs but then I get so few reviews. Reviews are what keep me going! So thank you to those who were kind enough to leave them. Have an awesome weekend everybody!

--MusicalCharlatan


	3. A Long Day

_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter Three—A Long Day

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Crecy—Glad you like the story, hun. And thanks for the review. They are much appreciated. J Whoa!! Totally did NOT know that I could use that symbol!

Fiona McKinnon—"…that got her attention" would be a bit of an understatement. Oh, and you're gonna have to explain to me what on earth PAMS means, because, even for as long as I've been on Fanfiction, I've never seen that before, and, truthfully, it's making me feel sorta dumb. –chuckle-- Thanks for the review!

Cherenmay—Hey! A new person! Glad you like the story, and I promise I'm working as hard as I can on this story.

The Lady Romance—Hah. "Nuisance from Above"-I likes it. And again, thank you for your compliments, m'lady. –bows-

A/N: Oh, and just in case some of you are wondering, Iorwen is NOT an elvish name; it's welsh, actually. I just don't want anyone thinking she's an elf in our world or some BS like that. Okay, so read on!!

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For a fleeting moment there, I believed him. I believed him like I believed air gave me life and gravity pulled everything towards the core of the Earth. It was there…and then it was gone.

I started to laugh.

How crazy was this? How downright psychotic?! Who would have thought I'd even be _in _a situation like this?! I was in the presence of a mad man, a very _convincing_ madman, but a madman nonetheless. He needed to be in an institution somewhere.

I made up my mind suddenly, and turned back towards the door, but before I could even take a step, strong arms had already wrapped themselves around me and managed to pull my hands back behind my back where they were stuck between my own body and Eros'. I tried ripping myself out of his snatch, and I'd never felt so weak in all my life. I was as helpless in his grasp as a butterfly with its wings clipped. Growling angrily, I tried to kick him in the weak spot that I knew all of his kind possessed. I felt him tense and then quickly knock my feet out from under me, making us both fall to the floor. He, thankfully, did not land directly on top of me, but a moment later I was pinned to the floor with his very distracting warm breath hitting my ear.

"I do not wish to hurt you, Kate." _Hah. Too late for that, buddy._ "And it would seem that I can not convince you of my credibility." _Hmm, small wonder, that_. "However, I will do what I must to return to my home." His voice, which had been so calm and smooth like water on rocks, now reeked of desperation and fortitude. And, if the knife hadn't really unnerved me earlier, then his voice at the moment sure as hell did.

"What are you going to do?" It was all I could manage to squeak out, and I really didn't care that my terror was easily evident, for now I had suddenly realized the seriousness of my situation. I should have called grandpa as soon as this asshole had moved the knife away from my throat. I should have _bolted _for that damn door the first chance I got. But I'd been so curious. Every word he'd said had been too intriguing. And now I was alone, helpless, stupid, and complete recipient of his will.

At any rate, all I could do at that moment was concentrate on the floor. Inside I was livid with anger, scared nearly to the point of pissing myself, and more than halfway tempted to bite into the next body part that came anywhere _near _my mouth. However, I tried to remain calm. His words hit my ear again. "I need your help, Kate. That is what I am so desperately trying to convey to you. I need someone who will believe me…"

"Why should I believe you?!" I spat, my anger getting the better part of my fear. I didn't like any of this one bit. It was bad enough that I was already terrified of this unpredictable creature in my bunkhouse, but it didn't help that his breath was causing the sensitive skin under my ear to tingle. I was quickly losing my head what with his muscular body pinning me down, while at the same time primordial fear was welling up inside me. I tried to wriggle away again, but he pushed down harder making me wince as my chest was further crushed to the floor painfully.

"Indeed, why should you? But perhaps…" he paused, and my anxiety began to fill to the brim all over again, "perhaps because _I _believed _you_…?"

I stopped all my moving, probably my breathing as well. He _had _believed me. He could have killed me earlier in the midst of his emotions.

"You _owe_ me."

Letting my head hit the floor, I sighed heavily. I suddenly felt unreasonably guilty. "That's not the same," I managed weakly.

"I see no difference."

And, sadly, I agreed with him. "There IS a difference. I'm not holding a knife to your neck."

"No, but, symbolically speaking, you are."

I growled in frustration. "Alright, dammit! I'll help you. Just get up and stop crushing me into the floor. This hurts more for girls than guys, you know."

He stood up and pulled me up by my arm, and for a moment I could have sworn I glimpsed a light blush on his cheeks. It disappeared quickly. "You must promise me--on something you hold dear--that you will help me as I have asked." He demanded only a moment later.

I narrowed my eyes. "Fine." I wasn't happy about his mistrust. I'd said I would, hadn't I? "I swear on my mother's grave that I shall help you as you have asked."

He nodded in confirmation. "That shall do."

Still glaring at him, I turned into the kitchen and began rummaging about inside one of the cabinets, making pots clang raucously. Wincing, Legolas tried not to cover his ears at the noise. "What are you doing?" He asked, patience and irritation lacing through his voice.

I turned to look at him as I withdrew a stir fry pan and forced a very bad smile. "Making breakfast, of course."

Mr. Eros blinked and said nothing as I plopped the pan on the grill. Turning it on, I sprayed the pan with PAM and went to the fridge that I knew grandma must have already filled up for me with any extra food from their house. As expected, I found bacon, bread, and a jug of orange juice. Placing seven strips of bacon on the pan with a satisfying sizzle, I began to try and make some type of conversation. I looked back at the elf and noticed the odd look he seemed to be giving the entire kitchen. It was like as though he had never seen—NO! He was still playing around with me. I was only helping him to get out of a mental debt, _and _because I had promised. "So…" I turned back and began pulling out another pan from the cabinet, this one significantly smaller in size, "I suppose you want me to call you Legolas, right?"

I heard him sit down in a chair to watch me, "Since that is my name, yes."

"You still expect me to believe everything you claim?"

"It would be difficult for you to help me in my task if you didn't."

"And what task is that?"

"Well, perhaps I should first tell you my tale." He began, and I cut him off.

"You already did, genius. A big, black portal must have just opened up and--bod-a-bing-bod-a-boom--you just magically appeared in my grandfather's barn before rolling out of the hay loft and landing on his John Deere. Poof!" I exclaimed, momentarily removing my hand from the handle of the skillet to smack my hands together dramatically. I'm a master of sarcasm, and for a long time now I'd been trying to escape my excessive use of it. But at that moment, I simply couldn't help it.

"Not quite," Legolas replied patiently, again, looking utterly confused at my words, "I had just returned from a quest of mine and was finally sleeping in my own bed for the first time in a long while when I detected a presence in my room during the night. I turned over to see who it was that had invaded my sanctuary, but could see nothing in the darkness. And then it was thought I had fallen from a great height." He paused, as though wondering if he should tell me something but only shook his head tiredly. "I have no idea how I came by this place or even the reason why. A wise friend of mine had mentioned to me something of this nature a few nights prior, but his is oft' known for his curious riddles and I paid his words little heed."

"What is your friend's name," I asked, while flipping the bacon and looking at the other pan where I was making toast. I was expecting him to say something easily found in the books, like Elrond or Gandalf or someone like that. They were the most typical "wise" beings. I was actually surprised at what I heard. "He is called Radagast. He is an ancient wizard of Middle Earth, and he was visiting from his home in Rhosgobel."

Hmmm…that name certainly sounded familiar though. "And what did he say?"

Legolas squinted with an odd expression on his face. "I could comprehend only little of what he told me. He said that the animals spoke eagerly of the Valars' arrangement and their appreciation. He told me that not all happiness is found at home and I should perhaps delay my trip with Gimli to Fangorn." Legolas frowned slightly, a sad expression crossing his face at the name of Gimli. Who had that been again? Ah, yes, the dwarf! In the books, the elf and dwarf had become long-time friends.

Determined that I get out of my debt soon, I plodded on. "That really _doesn't _make much sense." An immensely helpful statement, I know.

We were both very quiet for a while. Suddenly, Legolas spoke up. "Tell me, Kate, how is it that you know so much about Middle Earth and—" he looked at me queerly, "and even myself?"

I sighed as I took the bacon out of the pan and laid it on a paper towel, the grease seeping into it quickly like a dark disease. I could already tell how long of a day this was going to be. "First of all, my name's not Kate, it's Iorwen."

I gauged his reaction, but he didn't look surprised. "I knew that you lied." He replied simply.

"Then why the hell have you been calling me Kate?"

"What else might I have addressed you by?"

_Good point_.

"The reason I know so much about you," I pause, feeling stupid that I was about to explain Tolkien's books to a man who probably knew full-well what they were. Deep inside I knew he was just playing me…right? Well, despite all that, I still owed him for not killing me. Whatever this man's story, I knew that when I'd first woke, I'd been greeted by a very lost and desperate being. Whether he was lying about being an elf or not, I fully believed he had been completely and utterly lost as to what was happening. I felt sorry for him. He looked very out of place somehow.

Deciding that I was going to play along at least for now, I began explaining. "The reason I know so much about you and Middle Earth is because, in this world, you're nothing more than a book character. A few decades ago, a man named Tolkien wrote several books about Middle Earth, three of them encompassing the quest done by the Fellowship. They're very famous and are considered throughout the world as some of the best literature ever written. I, myself, have all the books in my house in Atlanta, including the Silmarillion, a history on Middle Earth. In other words…Middle Earth and everything in them, not excluding you, are nothing more than fantasy."

I wouldn't realize until later on that my trust in him actually began at that moment. The look on his face…well-- to use the understatement of the century-- was pitiful. If he hadn't already been sitting, I'm quite sure he would have just sunk into that chair in a daze instantly.

Closing his eyes, Legolas breathed out slowly, his face registering a look of supreme loss and confusion. My stupid mama-coddle meter started going off again like a broken alarm and I ignored it tartly. I still didn't believe him, no matter how sad he looked. Turning back to the kitchen, I flipped the toast and walked over to an overhead cabinet. Pulling out two glasses, I poured orange juice into them, and looked over doubtfully at the elf. Giving into my dumb alarm, I walked over to him and placed the glass in his hands. "Here, drink this. It's good. It'll make you feel better. I promise."

He looked oddly at the glass and drank tentatively. Smiling weakly up at me after this initial taste, he continued to drink. "I guess I could have broken that to you a little easier," I focused my eyes on the sizzling toast.

"I would have learned of it inevitably." His words were agonizingly soft. I winced at the pain that seeped through them and only nodded down at the stove.

"I'm going to help you back though, so you don't have to worry about it. It really doesn't change a thing. Either way…you don't belong here."

I flipped another piece of toast, and behind me I heard some light sipping. At least he liked the orange juice…

Finishing the toast, I grabbed two plates, separated the toast and bacon onto each, and plopped both of them on the small table near the foyer.

"Come," I directed Legolas to a chair in front of the plate away from the couch, and he sat there as I had ordered. "Eat." And he did.

The bacon was just like I wanted it, slightly crispy but not to the point where it broke in half like an Emory board when you bit into it. The toast was a little soft for my liking, but Legolas seemed to enjoy it nonetheless.

"I've never eaten anything like this." He said, looking at the bacon in his hand curiously. I again felt the need to slap him and tell him that he was human just like me and of course he had eaten bacon before. "I have tasted pig before, but not quite like this. It's very good. It is pig, is it not?"

I nodded and mumbled a thank you.

Things passed on in silence for a while, the only sound filling the room being the sound of my eating (Legolas was ridiculously quiet while chewing) and the thrum of the air conditioner in the corner that Legolas kept glancing at uneasily. Out of the blue, he spoke up, his words hitting me harder than I'd ever expected them to. "I wish to see those books you spoke of."

I glanced up at him, some toast held limply in my hand barely halfway into my mouth. "What?" I choked out dumbly.

He stared at me pointedly, and I could see that a plan was rolling out on the drawing board of his mind. "Perhaps they can aid me… It is possible. They are, after all, the only connection I now know of that relates back to…to my home." He only stuttered when he was talking about Middle Earth. It was obviously just another ploy of his.

"But the books are back at my home in Atlanta. And I'm not just gonna go and buy a set of expensive books, so you can peruse them at your will."

"Then we shall go to Atlanta."

I shook my head fiercely. "Listen…Atlanta's a really big city, okay, and…truthfully, I've got no idea how you'll react towards real civilization." _Bull crap._ I just didn't want to take a psycho who thought he was the elf prince of Eryn Lasgalen into my apartment where he could kill me. Yet, even as I sat there at that crappy little Formica table, the pleading look in his eyes began melting my resolve. I actually found myself considering what this blonde god was telling me. However, he was going to have to do a lot more than what he'd said so far to get any real trust to surface.

But both sides of my subconscious, disbelieving and believing, thought that going to Atlanta with his royal highness was a BAD idea. Somehow the city + nutcase elf prince didn't seem like a very good combination to me.

"But go to Atlanta, I must. These books you speak of sound as though they may be the key to my return."

I sighed. Aside from the fact that the books would appease him, I was also considering the fact that I was probably going to have to leave with him anyway, because I wasn't going to manage to hide a fully-grown elf from my grandparents while I was here. I had to get him away from here if I was going to help him back to wherever he came from. I knew he was lost. I didn't know lost from where exactly, but I was sure that he was. Call it a hunch. But the look on his face when I'd woken up…nobody could have faked that kind of desperation. And why would he anyway?

So…I was taking "Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood" to Atlanta, Georgia, and I had to do it without my grandparents finding out about him or anyone else for that matter.

Yes, it was going to be a long day.

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A/N: Okay, sorry that took so much longer, everyone, but I've only ever been able to work on it between third and fourth period, and then I had to transfer all that I'd written onto the comp. So everybody forgive me, and I hope ya'll liked the chapter!

MusicalCharlatan


	4. Just Stay Here

_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter Four—Just Stay Here

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**Fiona McKinnon**—Sorry for making you feel guilty about the PAMS thing. Thanks for explaining it. I'll start using it from now on, and we can pass around the new and fun acronym.

**Crecy- **Yes, it should be funny indeed. Although, don't assume too early that he won't like Atlanta. You never know. I might throw all of you people off. Oo

**The Lady Romance- **You don't like bacon?! -is affronted- I'm glad you liked the chapter, and don't feel dumb for thinking Iorwen was an elvish name, cause, seriously, when I first saw it on babynames..com (Yes, I find my character names from sites where mothers go to find their child's name! Don't make fun of me!!) I kind of blinked for a second and was all, like, "I didn't know that Tolkien's languages are now considered legitimate tongue." Sad, really.

**Rythmic Blot- **I might take you up on the offer for help, my friend. And, who knows, maybe you will get to do something detrimental to Legolas' health. –scoff-

**Manwathiel- **Awesomeness. I'm glad you like the story. It's nice to have a new person on board. ; )

**Chicky Poo- **Sweet! Another new person! An, yeah, they DID just get to her grandparents, but, seriously, how realistic is it to think that she could have stayed there with her grandparents around her constantly. She can't just keep him locked inside the bunkhouse. And besides, Atlanta is where some interesting things will start to happen.

-snigger-

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_Iorwen POV_

After breakfast, I looked up at the clock and realized that in about ten minutes grandma would be probably head down to the bunkhouse to check on me as she usually did. Scrambling up, I grabbed all of the stuff on the table and hastily dumped it in the sink. Seizing Legolas by the arm, I dragged him out of the bunkhouse and headed towards the car. It was chilly outside and I tried to ignore the cold in my thin pajamas as I ushered the elf into the backseat of my pathfinder. There really wasn't anywhere to hide him in the bunkhouse except for the cramped bathroom. And, sadly, grandma tended to go to the restroom a little more often than was normal, and I didn't feel like risking my grandmother's health by allowing her to walk in on a blonde stranger in my bathroom. Just the thought made me cringe. It also kind of made me want to laugh, but I resisted the urge.

Legolas got into the car without question, though I could easily see the apprehensiveness in his face as I ordered him to stay. "I'll come back, I promise. But there are a good few reasons why my grandmother can't see you, and she's going to come back here in about—" I looked at my watch, "five minutes. Now, just stay here and DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING."

Giving me a slow nod, Mr. Eros (as I'd mentally taken to calling him) only watched as I shut the door on him. However, as soon as I did, he looked enormously disturbed, enough so that I opened the door again out of concern. "You okay?"

"Nay! How does one get free of this prison once within?"

I shook my head, "It's not a prison--it's just a car. I'll explain later, just sit there and if you need to get out just pull on this," I grabbed the door handle, "and push out. Oh, and stay out of sight! Just lay down or something, okay?"

As I was rushing back to the bunkhouse in my slippers, I realized something. I was treating him like I would a child. Like it or not, I was starting to grow a bit fond of this unknown elf that had so raucously interrupted my, over all, pretty peaceful life. Ignoring my second mind for what I realized had to be about the twentieth time since I'd met Legolas, I opened the bunkhouse door and began packing up my stuff, all the while, thinking of an excuse for my early departure.

--Marian had called…somethin'--somethin'--somethin'…

--The office wanted me back to work this Monday, even though we were off, because…

--Um, Marian—no, my landlord had detected termites in my house, and she wanted me back since…

Stuffing my shampoo and conditioner into the outside mesh pocket of my duffel bag, I turned to the kitchen and began to try and clean up some of the dishes in the sink. The door suddenly swung open, smacking the wall unceremoniously, making me jump, as in walked grandma.

"Morning, sweetheart. I'm quite surprised you're up this early. I s'pose you've finally beaten that awful habit of sleeping till noon."

I smiled in what I hoped was an inconspicuous way, "You can't really do that often in the real world."

"Quite right," she nodded her head in agreement while looking around the room. She spotted my bag. "Dear, you know I've got a closet over there that you can put all of your clothes in while you're here. After all—"

"No, grandma. Actually, I'm leaving. Y'see, Marian called early this morning 'cause she's having problems with Ben again and she wants to come over to my apartment to stay. She's in all upset, and she really wants to talk to me in person."

Grandma raised her eyebrows. "Marian's livin' with that boyfriend o' her's? I just don't understand what's gone an happened to _marrying _people before you live with 'em… Oh well, if you really have to get back to Atlanta then you must. But you do know that you're gonna have to visit again after this little ordeal?"

Relieved at her convinced answer, I nodded my head. "'Course."

Grandma sighed and looked at the dishes. "Now, you go on and get out of here. Just leave those to me."

Smiling gratefully, I thanked her, promised another visit, and told her to give grandpa my thanks and love. She nodded through it all and helped me get my stuff out to the car...or tried to, at least.

"I'll get that, grandma," I nearly screeched when she started for my car, "I'll be fine. Go on." I threw the bags into the very back and got into the driver's seat, hoping Legolas would know to stay down. He did, thankfully.

"Now, I'm certainly sorry to see you off so soon, as will Clarence. Just be careful on your drive back and watch out for any stupid, dirty men. You're too pretty to be drivin' round by yourself."

Ahhh, grandma's unselfish compliments…one could never get enough of them. "Goodbye, grandma. Keep grandpa in line while I'm gone." Putting the key in the ignition, I heard the engine turn over and put it into drive before pulling out onto the road. Well, that had gone far easier than expected…

I glanced into the back seat where a very anxious-looking Mr. Eros was sitting upright, his lips tight and eyes wider than teacups. If this guy really _was _a joke, he needed to take up a career in acting, because he pulled off the look on unease very well.

"You all right?" I asked, hating the tinge of pity I felt towards the highly pathetic look on his face. "Don't be scared, really. This isn't dangerous at all. This thing we're in is just a car, like I said. It's mans' modern way of getting around. It's pretty difficult to explain. Just be satisfied in the knowledge that you're not in harm's way and it's not going to _put _you in harm's way."

Eros said nothing, only scrambled up into the seat next to me. It was then that I remembered he didn't have any normal clothes and he was still in night attire.

Not to mention, I'd completely forgotten about that small wound of his. "How's your head?"

He glanced at me strangely for a moment before answering by pulling off the gauze I'd placed on the injury earlier.

Looking back and forth between the road and him, it was a second before I realized that the rather large cut from the night before was already close to healing. The skin was already closed up with a thin, very smooth scab over it as though someone had smoothed away the rip in his skin and it had by now gone through the stitching process. It wasn't even bruised. It took me a moment before another thought hit me.

This was only more proof of his claim…

_Okay, just calm down, Iorwen. Perhaps he's just really, really, really healthy…_

I thought about asking him just that but was afraid to, knowing what the answer would be already. "We need to get you some real clothes." I said, getting my mind of the irritatingly rational answers that were pervading my mind. "You also need another name."

Mr. Eros shifted in his seat like an anxious child, his obvious discomfort with the car was making me nervous and I told him as much. "Forgive me," he said, sounding, indeed, quite sorry, "I do not mean to cause you unease. It is only that…I am not familiar with anything I have seen yet. You can not realize how very foreign this all is…"

"Well, right now you're just gonna have to trust me about all of these new things. Anyway, on with the name thing… How do you like Matthew? or perhaps…Wesley…or Cameron…or," I was racking my brain trying to remember all the boy names I liked, "Dale? Benjamin? Chris? Jesús?"

Legolas furrowed his eyebrows. "I like that one, I think."

"Jesús?! I was just kidding about that one, you know."

Legolas shook his head, "Nay. The name prior to that."

"Chris?"

"Aye. It is simple. I like it."

I shrugged. "Sure. Fine."

He tried to relax in his seat. His eyes were still traveling everywhere, absorbing everything so completely that I was sure he would remember it all in the years to come.

"I do not have any other clothes." He said suddenly, turning to me and knocking me out of my own quiet reverie.

Rubbing my thumbs along the steering wheel, I answered him patiently. "I know. That's why we're gonna get you some at the next place that comes around."

What _was_ the next place around anyway?

I vaguely remembered a mall somewhere back towards Lufkin, but that required turning around and heading back through Etoile. Maybe if I took to the route along 290 and grabbed that back road my grandpa showed me that went—

My musings were cut unduly short when the sound of static mixed with crappy pop music hit me full force. It changed swiftly to another station, then another, and another—

"_I like it, I love it, I want some more of it. I__'__ve tried so hard, I can__'__t rise above__—_"

Click.

"—_ananas. B-A-N-A-N-A-S—"_

Click.

"_Look to the sky in the mornin'. The shadow is coming. The sh—"_

Click.

"What are you doing?!"

Mr. Eros it seemed was just having himself a grand ole' time punching all the radio station buttons. One song would come on and he'd punch the next button almost instantly. _My God_, I thought in amusement, _He__'__s as bad as __my friend,__ Marian_.

"What is this device?" he asked curiously, eyes shining with a very new and juvenile light that made me snort in amusement.

"It's called a radio and it transmits sound waves into music and songs. People can have them in their cars, homes, or even take them with them portably." I thought about ipods, "I guess there's more than one type of radio actually. You really don't need to worry about it though."

"That is music?" He looked genuinely confused as the song _Thriller _came on. Legolas looked slightly disturbed. Needless to say, the look on his face was quite comical, and I didn't bother holding in the laugh that was tingling in my mouth. "Yes, it's music. You shouldn't look so surprised. Time has a way of changing everything, including music styles. And anyway, most all the songs you've heard so far suck anyway…except for _Thriller._" I chuckled.

His eyebrow had lifted high at my last sentence. "Sucks? I do not understand…"

"It means that something is really bad—no good—worthless—stupid—crappy—"

"Crappy?"

"Yes, bad. Now, shut up."

Mr. Eros glanced out the window and then back to me. "You have used many words since my arrival that I can not even begin to understand…"

"They're just slang, more than likely. That is, made-up words that mean something else and usually in a more crude manner. The American vernacular. You'll get used to it. Humans have a lot of phrases and sayings that we've gathered over the ages. You won't understand those, so when you're lost to the meaning, just ask me. Oh, and don't ask in the presence of anybody else. It's considered pretty odd to _not_ know what they mean."

He just nodded. I flipped the stations around and found next to nothing to listen to. Getting mad, I grabbed one of my big CD albums from the backseat (or, rather, I made Legolas grab it) and began to flip through. Pulling out my burned copy of Blue Oyster Cult's "Godzilla", I shoved it into the player and I spent the next twenty five minutes educating Legolas on classic rock as we drove to the next town.

Right before we reached the exit that led off to town, my phone rang.

Legolas started glancing around frantically, his eyes unnaturally wide like those of a deer in headlights. He looked to me and I calmed him down absentmindedly with bored hand gestures while burrowing into my purse for my phone. Upon finding it, I flipped it open and greeted my caller. It was Marian.

"Hey, you. How go things in Etoile?"

I sighed. "I'm not in Etoile, actually. I'm coming back, there have been some complications."

"What?!" She sounded a little unnaturally surprised and my eyebrows rose to new heights, "I mean—like what?"

Dammit. I needed an excuse to give to Marian, too.

"Uh…well," I flipped through available excuses, "Judy—you know, my landlord—she called to tell me that I have termites and they're gonna take care of it, but I need to get my living room cleared before the exterminators get there."

"Oh, well, you know, Iorwen, I can do that for you; no big deal. After all, you need to get back to your family. I mean, you haven't even seen your sis—"

"You know very well why I can't see my family, Marian." I barked defensively.

"Yeah, I know that. Calm down. I was just sayin'—"

"Look, I'm pulling into Starbucks right now. I'll talk to you later." _Lie._

I flipped the phone shut and ignored Legolas' look. I couldn't really see his face, but I knew that at that moment he had to be peering at me with that puzzled expression yet again. I knew he'd be wondering either about the phone or my fluctuating temper.

His question about the phone came up soon enough, just like I'd known it would, and I-- being who I am--explained it all quite patiently to him.

"I never thought that man would be able to advance so much. It is remarkable to see the differences between the mortals of this world and those of my own."

It was so weird to hear him call my own race "mortals." It sounded so demeaning somehow, like as though we were something wretched and cursed, and the elves…were simply better, blessed.

Covering my irritation, I replied, "Well, it certainly didn't happen overnight. And you'll begin to see that not only have we advanced technologically, but also our knowledge and power continues to grow with every year." I didn't realize it at that moment, but I'd suddenly become very defensive of my race, and I was scrambling to make them sound better to this elvish prince.

Legolas nodded without answering and continued to stare out the window. He was so fascinated by everything about him. Every once and a while, I'd see him sort of stroking the plastic of the car handle as though it was a pet, or he'd be watching the passing power lines very closely, his eyes trained on the them intently like as though they'd escape if he looked away. He also got excited when a random house or business would pass by. Evidently even our architecture was extraordinary to him. _Well, at least I__'__ll never have to entertain him on this trip_.

I noticed one of his perfectly pointed ears again, so leaf-shaped and pale. It jutted out further than most ears would. It looked far too real to have been made or formed with some type of gelatin. And you couldn't manipulate any human ear into that shape either. I know. I'd tried more than once to do it after I read the LotR books. My common sense was screaming at me to stop, to think about what it was I was considering possible. But that was just it--I _had _thought about it, and despite all of my qualms, his answer was seeming…well, quite feasible actually.

_You're an idiot, Iorwen_.

"Iorwen," Legolas spoke my name suddenly, and I realized with a small bit of satisfaction that it was the first time he'd actually said it. "I believe we are nearing a town. Am I correct?"

Wow. I'd barely even been watching the road. How could I have missed the town sign and the increasing traffic?

I nodded and began scanning each side of the road for a gas station. I was still in pajamas if you'll remember, and needed a bathroom to go and change in first. Rushing out my grandparents' house so quickly hadn't been my greatest idea.

I spotted an old Shamrock with an outside bathroom right next to the parking lot of Target. _Thank God._

I parked the SUV halfway between the station and Target and got out of the car quickly. Pulling the keys from the ignition, I dropped them in my leather bag and shut the door. I opened the door to the backseat and grabbed my duffel bag. "I won't be long," I said, seeing Legolas' concerned face, "Just stay here. You can play with the radio and the window buttons all you like, okay. Just stay put." He nodded.

Noting that two of the windows were already open for ventilation, I went to the gas station, changed into blue jeans, a tank top, and my converse. Still armed with the duffle bag and purse, I headed to Target and bought the cheapest clothes I could get. I didn't have enough money to go blow eighty-something on this Joe Nobody. They were nice clothes though: some faded jeans (I guessed to the best of my ability on all of his sizes), two plain black T-shirts, some socks and cheap tennis shoes (the guy was still barefoot), and a bag of boxers, because God knew _I _certainly didn't have any for him.

While standing in line, I quietly wondered what I would do once I got back home. I could hardly make up my mind on whether or not I believed this guy yet or not, and eventually I was going to have to help him back to wherever he came from. How was I going to help him, if I couldn't even convince myself he wasn't out of his mind?

Becoming increasingly depressed and irritated with my situation, I grabbed a Hershey's bar from the rack beside me and grabbed another coke that was in a nearby fridge. Once I'd checked out, I grabbed my three bags and headed back to the car. I had some trouble finding the car, since I've always had a horrible sense of direction. I almost always forget where I park. I could practically get lost in my own one-bedroom apartment. Finally though, I found the pathfinder. Sighing in relief, I headed for the car and quickly threw my bags into the backseat. Walking around the vehicle to get into the driver's side, I opened the door and stared blankly at the empty seat next to it.

Legolas was gone…

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A/N: Well, I'm finally finished. I'm already started on chapter five so you people shouldn't have to wait too long. I'm sorry it took so long. I was sick for a while; I also have two projects I'm working on, and a butt load of exams to worry about. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter and I'll be sure to get the next one out sooner.


	5. Hersheys Make Everything Better

_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter Five—Hershey's Make Everything Better

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**Chicky Poo- **To answer your question I'll say this, Iorwen sort of believes him, but until she sees some serious die-hard evidence that leaves absolutely NO doubt in her mind she's still gonna be a little skeptical. I just think that's how we are as humans, and I don't like how in most fics the characters just end up being, like, "Oh, you're from Middle Earth? Wow. Let me get you a cup of hot cocoa." Not very realistic to me. Oh, and as far as Lego's location, you'll find that out soon enough.

**Fiona McKinnon- **Yeah, I thought it would just be natural for Legolas to be a bit…how you say?…petrified of the car. I know I would be if I didn't know what it was.

**Manwathiel- **Well, actually I think I'm gonna let Iorwen go find him. - afraid of what Manny's thinking about- Thanks for the offer, though.

**Almenel-** Yeah for the new person! And don't worry, I know what you mean about the logging-in thing.

**The Lady Romance- **Legolas is NOT going to wander into a strip bar. Your audience input is denied. Haha. Just kiddin'. That would be funny, but not what I have in mind.

**Cameron- **Holy crap! It's you! I still can't believe you found me, you jerk. You better not tell anybody else about my little story. –cough-I'll kill you in your sleep-cough-

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You know, perhaps I should have just forgotten all thoughts of searching right then. It would have been the perfect opportunity to just hop into my car and drive off without ever having to deal with him again. What a wonderful thought. I could have just pretended that it had all been a very stressful, emotionally-straining dream and I had woken up. But being me, there was absolutely no way I could just leave him in the middle of some god-forsaken southern town. However, I will say this: I stood in front of my car debating for a good five minutes on whether to leave him or not before I even began to scan the parking lot. I dare say that's the closest to being evil that I've ever been. But you have to understand that, even for the miniscule amount of time I'd been harboring this elf, elf-babysitting had become a terribly tasking job. And it wasn't just watching him either. I have to find a way to kick his skinny ass all the way back into his beloved Mirkwood; another task that in-and-of itself was enough to send me into frustrated fits. The Hershey's bar in my Target bag was testament to that.

Dropping my bags into the back seat and closing the open passenger door, I began to look around the parking lot in a blind fury. Boy, was he gonna get it when I got my hands on him. I wouldn't throttle him; rather, I'd just bash his head into the hardest object nearby a few million times and then kick him in the balls just for good measure. As I continued to think up awful forms of punishment, my eyes glided over the many planes of the parking lot and surrounding area, only stopping twice. The first being on some short, fat, blond man with a Hispanic girl on his arm, and the second time on some tall middle-aged woman who wanted to be young again and had dyed her hair platinum blond. And as you can see, neither of those descriptions came even close to that of my local elf. Stomping my foot, I made a very low growl and kicked my tire several times.

Stupid, dumb, freaking elf.

Looking back at the road, I began to think again about just leaving without him, but clearly God had other plans when he revealed over the tops of passing traffic, the glinting reflection of light on a blonde head. Evidently, the wood-loving elf had spotted the field on the other side of the road and decided to go sight-seeing for a moment or two. Cursing like a grateful man dropped out of the clergy, I made my way towards the road, mentally kicking myself for ever having gone to Etoile in the first place. Etoile, clearly, was the birthplace of all headaches. And, so far, that was all this Mr. Eros had been to me. My second mind denied this vehemently and tried to list off all the interesting characteristics of the said elf, but I blocked it out like a firewall.

Heading for the road, I saw that on the other side Legolas was heading towards me slowly. The road was only a two-lane, but the traffic was pretty fierce that sped up and down its black surface. I wasn't bothered however. I'd crossed so many roads--ones often with far more lanes than the one in front of me--with little to no issue. I eyed the cars warily for a moment and waited for the first lane to clear out a bit before rushing to the middle of the road to stand on top of the yellow lines before another car zoomed in front of my face, making my hair blow out behind me. I spotted Legolas for a moment beyond the car passing in front of me and he seemed to have picked up his pace, because he was almost at the fence on the far side of the road. Seeing the look of horror on his face as he watched what I was doing, I panicked, realizing immediately that I should have waited a little bit longer for the traffic to clear up and decided to make a run for it, not even noticing the small red Mazda that was only several yards off. Then my mind switched on and I turned. Heart nearly stopping, I saw the car bearing down on me. And then several things happened at once.

First, somewhere in the midst of all the noise I heard someone call my name, a car horn blared, a man's terrified eyes looked at me through thick glass. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, I felt myself being dragged off the road mere seconds before the mazda screeched to a halt. I landed hard on my back and my head cracked against gravel causing bursts of light to explode in my head. All I could see for a moment was utter blackness before my vision returned blurrily, revealing the light gray, cloudless sky above me. I blinked, suddenly completely at a loss as to where I was or what was going on. Vaguely, I could hear someone trying to get me to pay attention to them, but all I could really focus on was the sound of a car door opening and shutting and the color of the sky above me. What finally got my attention was something touching my face. Turning my eyes down to my cheek, I looked curiously at a long white hand that was cupping my face, one thumb steadily rubbing downward under my eye soothingly. Barely comprehending what I was seeing, I looked up and saw Legolas kneeling over me, a thin line of scarlet blood trailing his right cheek under his ear. I watched mesmerized as some of his hair became stuck to the blood, barely even noticing that Legolas was talking to me.

"Iorwen! Iorwen! What ails you? Please, speak!"

"Is she okay? Is she all right? Did you get her in time? I--I couldn't stop. I thought she wouldn't move. I couldn't stop!"

The noise finally brought me back down to earth. Legolas kept repeating my name, and eventually I found myself looking into his eyes, my mind suddenly informing me of what had just happened. I tried to speak, but my mouth was very dry and I couldn't think of what to say anyway. Legolas only looked at me a moment longer before, suddenly, I felt myself being hoisted up and cradled against his chest. I could still hear the driver demanding to know whether or not I was all right, but Legolas only nodded to him once before carting me back across the road. I noted faintly that all the traffic had stopped, and there was suddenly hardly any noise at all as the elf walked across the road, seeming suddenly very much like Moses parting the Red Sea of Curious Onlookers. Someone else tried to tell him that I needed to see a doctor, but Legolas didn't stop walking until he'd reached my pathfinder. I was almost in a dreamlike state by the time he placed me in the back seat of the car and laid my head on his lap. All I could smell was the earthy odor of woodsmoke and some very strange and pungent kind of rosemary-scented soap. A moment later, a water bottle that I kept on the floorboard was pressed to my lips, and I grimaced as I gulped down and coughed on the lukewarm water.

"Iorwen?" The voice was no longer so urgent and for that I was grateful, "How do you feel?"

"Awful," I rasped out, remembering my sense of sardonicism as I began to become painfully aware of a throbbing headache that began at the back of my head and worked itself all the way up to my temples.

I saw Legolas grin for a moment before he suddenly became serious again. "Forgive me. I did not intend to pull you down so harshly."

Shaking my head and promptly regretting it, I gesticulated for him to help me up and he did so slowly, his large hands grabbing me beneath my arms and hauling me up so that I could sit comfortably.

"Shut up," I finally managed and Legolas looked at me with a certain amount of hurt on his face at my crass attempt to make him realize that I didn't care I was hurt so long as I was alive. "I mean, stop apologizing." I gazed up at him levelly, "You saved my life. That guy had to have been driving over fifty miles per hour. Concussion or not, if you hadn't yanked me off the road, I'd be smeared all over it right now. So...thank you."

Legolas smiled amiably at me, causing another wall of defense to go crumbling down.

"Of course," I intoned a moment later, "I wouldn't have minded if you'd managed to pull on my arm a little nicer. My shoulder still feels a little out of whack from that yank you gave me." I rolled my shoulder, attempting to loosen it up and noted that my elbow had also been skinned.

"Allow me," Legolas said, and I turned to him in confusion right as he scooted over and abruptly took my arm into his hands. "Often times it can be difficult to ascertain whether or not a bone has been bruised or a joint pulled." His hands pushed back the strap of tank top further and began massaging and feeling around my shoulder, prodding for weakness.

I swallowed and tried not to shudder as he explored my arm, causing goosebumps to rise up on my skin in pleasure. Legolas frowned at me, "Relax your arm." He demanded and I let out a shuddering breath, trying my best to make my muscles obey me. As it was, all they wanted to do was tense up and alert me of the fact that a very attractive male--elf or otherwise--was massaging my arm. I was hardly aware of any pain as his thumbs worked away soreness in a way that was--for lack of a better term--otherworldly. Too soon, his hands dropped from my arm and he gave me a reassuring smile. "There is nothing to fear. Your arm has sustained no serious injury. I do not think it shall even bruise."

I cleared my throat, shrugging my tank top into its normal position. "Great... Thank you," I managed after a moment.

Raising my eyes to look at him, I again noticed the cut on his cheek. I could tell it wasn't deep, but the blood had run all the way down his jaw and was halfway down his neck. "Oh, hey. Let me take care of that," I said, pointing at the cut.

Legolas blinked, apparently unaware of the fact that he was bleeding and stroked a hand across his face. "Ah. Tis nothing. I hardly noticed it."

I ignored him and rummaged underneath my driver's side seat before momentarily reappearing with a first aid kit. Legolas examined it in curiousity as I popped open the plastic latches and dug around for sanitizing wipes. "Maybe," I replied without looking up, "But you're about to bleed onto your shirt and if you get any blood in my car, I shall have to be cross with you."

I finally found the wipes at the bottom of the box and ripped open the package before beckoning Legolas to move closer so that I could reach his face. He did so reluctantly, eyeing the wipe warily as though it was some kind of weapon. "Calm down, prince. No need to look so wary. It's not going to bite you."

I grabbed his face and wiped the cloth along his jawline and along his neck then tentatively took the lock of hair that had gotten stuck in the blood and pulled it away. Legolas, I could tell from the corner of my eye, was watching me intently all the while, and I did my best to ignore his unnerving gaze as I stroked the hair clean with the sanitized cloth. Acting on impulse, I then pushed the hair behind his ear and this time Legolas visibly flinched as my hand grazed the top of his pointed ear. I hastily pulled away, worried that I'd done something wrong and feeling supremely foolish.

"Sorry," I mumbled, looking away.

Legolas straightened and looked away as well. And I might have been imagining it, but he almost looked...embarrassed. "It is fine. It is just that...our ears...they are rather...sensitive."

Unreasonably, I found myself blushing. "Well, um...at any rate, we need to get going."

Quickly, I shoved open my door and headed for the driver's side of my car, one hand pressed to my head as it continued to throb where I'd knocked it against the shoulder of the road. Legolas didn't bother going around, only leapt quickly into the front seat. After I started the engine, I noticed again that he was looking at me, or, more specifically, the hand that I had pressed to my head.

"Please forgive me, Iorwen," he said suddenly, causing me to glance at him in confusion, "I have been nothing but foolish with you ever since I arrived. I have already endangered your life twice now, and I promise you now, it shall never happen again. I am deeply sorry that I have placed this burden on you to help me and I count it among my greatest fortune that you chose to aid me. I am undeserving of your kindness and--"

"Oh, please, stop now," I interrupted, raising a hand to make him cease. "Seriously, you don't have to do that. It makes me feel awful, number one, because before I'd headed across that road, I'd been intent on yelling at you till your ears bled. Please, no more. I can't stand hearing you beg for forgiveness any more. It makes me feel like a complete heel. You saved my life, for Christ's sakes. Now, here," I grabbed one of the target bags from the floorboard and identified my candy bar before handing it to him, hastily unwrapped, "Eat a Hershey's bar and stop feeling guilty. Sheesh."

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:Revised and edited. I like this version a lot better. I hope you guys do, too.

-MusicalCharlatan


	6. Of Hotels, Cigarettes, and Cheap Bells

_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter Six--Of Hotels, Cigarettes, and Cheap Christmas Bells

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_Iorwen POV_

I drove for as long as I could before my eyes felt like someone was intentionally pulling them down and my fingers were as stiff as petrified wood. We had lost a little over an hour at the Target and I was trying to make up for it. Not to mention, I wanted to avoid an awkward hotel situation for as long as possible. Eventually though, sleeping became another thing that just couldn't be avoided forever, and, once the sun had truly set on the day, I began looking for a cheap stopping place. The chance arose when I came into the town of Knoxville, Alabama. There was a small, miserable little inn with a neon sign that unhappily tried to blink the words "Econo Lodge", with the c, the o, and the d missing.

Knowing that I couldn't go any further tonight, I decided this little piece of Hell would just have to do. As I parked the car, I glanced over at the silent form of Legolas and began to wonder…just what exactly was I doing? Surely, by all laws of decency and safety, staying the night in a hotel with a man one barely knew was a bad idea. But what choice did I have? It wasn't like I could just leave him in the car all night while I slept in the hotel. _Yes, you could, you idiot!_ my mind screamed. But…he'd saved my life. I owed him this much, certainly. How could I not trust a man that had risked himself just to save me?

Sighing heavily, I told Legolas I'd be right back but didn't bother telling him to stay when I got out of the car.

The door to the hotel office gave a cheap jingle when I entered. The implications of that sound made me realize just what type of hotel I was at. Very classy, indeed.

The office was tiny. An old, Formica counter topped with papers and brochures stood at the back, with a large balding man sitting leisurely behind it eating from a bag of corn nuts. Besides a few fake fichus trees and a bench that looked on the verge of breaking, the room was virtually empty. At my appearance, the man behind the counter burst into a ridiculous grin that made me want to turn and run. "Hello, ma'am." He said far too eagerly, a light lisp making his words sound slurred. Was it completely irrational to suppose that this man had been poppin' a few tops sometime tonight?

"Hi," I said in an absent-minded way while looking about to avoid eye contact, "Yeah, I need a room for one night only."

"Yes, of course. My, it's late. I guess I don't need to guess at why you're here. I saw your friend in the passenger seat when you drove up. Not too bad, I'd say. Though, usually, it's the guys driving in at somewhere around 100 miles per hour with some clueless bimbo next to 'em."

"Excuse me?" I couldn't remember being so insulted and appalled at the same time before in my entire life. I couldn't believe my ears. What right did he have to--how dare--WHAT A JERK! Narrowing my eyes dangerously and holding in the torrent of rage that was thrashing about inside me like a cobra in a bag, I took a step forward and placed my hands on the desk. "May I see your manager, sir?" There was no question in it.

"He's not here. He gets off at eight thirty, or, at least, that's when he _decides _to leave."

I very nearly growled. "Well, then," I glanced down at his nametag, "Mark, I'll be sure to send a nice little message to Mr. Econo Lodge, himself, once I'm out of here. I'm sure he'd love to hear about the perverted casual small-talk you make with customers." I was extraordinarily pleased to see Mark turn a very lovely shade of white.

I got through the rest of the room-attaining process without a single glitch. I forked up a check to the impudent employee and then fished out my driver's license so that he could inspect it. Behind me, the door had jingled about four different times from personnel walking in and out. I was beginning to loath that bell. As I left, Mark spoke, making me stop and turn. "Have a nice night," said with that raunchy grin it made me want to hurl. In a moment of unfettered rage, I glanced up at the loathsome bell. It was one of those cheap Christmas bells that you could hang on doors and such during winter. Purely in spite of him, I ripped the damned thing off the door and tossed it into one of the fichus trees before emitting a low growl in my throat and leaving. If it hadn't been so late I would have gone to a different hotel. When I got back to the car, Legolas took one glance at me and scooted over closer to the door. "Are you all right?"

"I'm perfect," I growled, grabbing my bags. Throwing the three Target bags at him, I stomped up the outside stairs to our room. Legolas followed a few feet behind at a safe distance. The room was #126. I opened it up with the key given to me and instantly was engulfed in the smell of cigarettes. I grimaced, "Ugh."

Walking into the small, outdated room, I cursed myself for not asking to get a smoking-free room. But I wasn't going back _now _to ask. Legolas looked positively revolted because of the smell. I got over it quickly enough, but he turned a deathly-pale color and stumbled back out of the room. "I can not--" he gulped, "What is that awful odor? I think I have smelled something of its like before but never so potent."

"It's cigarette smoke. A lot of people are addicted to it these day. Well, not actually the smoke itself but--oh, never mind. It's too much to explain when I'm this tired." I knew I hadn't explained that well at all, but I didn't care. I felt like Hell. My head had formed a massive knot was still throbbing dully. Not to mention, I was still stiff from driving for so long.

Legolas leaned against the railing outside the door, eying the room warily. "How can you stand it?"

I shrugged, "I've gotten used to it over the years. Believe me, I don't like it, but I can't help being around it. I have a lot of co-workers that smoke around me all the time."

He stepped back into the room reluctantly, inwardly wondering about this changed race of humans.

The room was exactly how I'd imagined it to be, several decades old wallpaper, southwestern -style lamps, two beds with thin imitation comforters placed on the bed only to fool people into thinking it had an actual cover on it, hard carpet, and a bathroom even smaller than the one at my grandparents' bunkhouse.

"Home, sweet home," I muttered dryly, dropping my stuff next to the bed closest to the bathroom.

Legolas surveyed the room, confusion in his eyes. "Only one room, but--" he glanced at the two beds, "Iorwen. You are sure about this? You will not be uncomfortable? I will gladly sleep elsewhere if I must…"

"I'll be fine," I said, opening the singular window to get rid of some of the smoke, "And, besides, we haven't got any choice."

Looking a bit perplexed, the elf-prince nodded. Sighing, I turned on the lamp and prepared to get ready for bed. After I turned down my bed, I again realized my weary state and headed for the small vanity-counter outside the bathroom. I changed back into pajamas inside the bathroom and, after the rest of my hygienic care, flumped onto the hard spring bed without hesitation. Legolas, however, looked totally lost as to what he should do.

"Aren't you tired?" I asked wearily, not bothering to lift my head off the cotton-stuffed pillow.

I heard him sigh, a long, slow release that almost sounded painful. "I suppose I should be." he sat down on the bed and it groaned in squeaky protest, "I did not really have any rest the night I came here. And I feel drained of energy, but yet…" he trailed off and I knew what he was thinking of, "Sleep will elude me."

Ignoring his melancholy, I pulled the blankets closer, sighing in its warmth and trying to ignore its foreign, stale smell. "Well, you should at least try. We don't have too much further to drive tomorrow…"

He made no answer, knowing that he would find no easy rest in the smoke-wreathed room. He sat there silently for a few minutes, wondering how he would ever get used to this new world when he heard a soft, whistling snore, signifying that Iorwen had slipped into her dreams.

Standing up, he walked past her bed and stood at the window. The air wasn't so thick with the smell of cigarettes there and he was halfway tempted to stick his head near the screen of the window so that he could revel in its purity. It wasn't pure though. The air here was always thick; harsher. Not at all alike to the cool, woodland air of Greenwood. Of course, everything  here was different. Even the screen on the window was a new concept to him. He supposed it was used to keep out insects.

Stroking the top of the table near the window, Legolas realized _it_ wasn't normal either. It had looked like wood but it felt too smooth, so smooth it made his fingers skid when he pressed them down and pulled them towards him…

It wasn't until a drop landed on the table top that he became conscious of the fact that a tear had slipped out his eyelid, past the carefully-laid defenses he had set up to block his emotions. Blinking, he wiped it off with his hand and inhaled deeply, the hard air hurting his chest. A sudden hopelessness enveloped him, drowning him in its cruel waters. He would never go home. Never again would he see his father's alabaster eyes staring back into his own, stroke the bark of an _Eryn Lasgalen _tree, laugh at one of Gimli's stupid comments, or tease Aragorn about getting old. No doubt, Middle Earth was probably near empty by now. Most of his kin had departed to heed the calling of the sea, while he had delayed, too attached to the only home he'd ever known to leave so easily. Another tear, unbidden, fell. "Oh, Valar," he breathed out another rasping breath, the pain in his chest now coming from the homesickness that threatened to overtake him, "Why do you do this to me?"

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:Again, rather short, but the next one should be longer. I hope you guys all liked Mark. chuckle

MusicalCharlatan


	7. A Large Rodent Problem

_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter Seven--A Large Rodent Problem

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Disclaimer--I do NOT own Cascade Glen. I am using this location solely for the purpose of being realistic. I didn't obtain the information by any other means than the internet where it was freely given. There. _Nor _do I own anything related to Lord of the Rings. Iorwen, however, is mine. If you wish to borrow; ask.

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_Iorwen POV_

We reached Atlanta the next day at about 9 am. I'd gotten about a good ten hours of sleep before I woke up at seven the next morning. Blearily, I opened my eyes to stare up at the spackled ceiling overhead, attempting to make myself get up and move. After a moment, I looked over at the other bed, wondering if Legolas ever managed to get to sleep. The bed was empty, covers untouched, and made exactly how it had been the day before. He hadn't slept at all apparently.

Yawning, I sat up, vaguely noting that the shower was running. It took me a few seconds before I finally made the connection. Glancing quickly at the wall separating the bedroom and the bathroom, I wondered to myself how in the hell Legolas had managed to figure out the shower. _Because he already knows how to use one, you moron. He may have saved your life, but that doesn't mean he's telling you the truth._

Frowning, I threw my legs over the side of the bed and decided to use the time while he was in the shower to change. Putting on another pair of jeans, some flip flops, and my Led Zeppelin T-shirt, I then picked up all the Target bags and began sifting through their contents. I grabbed the black shirts, the jeans, the tennis shoes, and the bag of boxers. Ripping the last item's packaging, I yanked out one of the boxers and chucked them onto Legolas' unused bed. After that, I set to the task of stringing the laces on the flat-bottomed black Puma knockoffs that I'd bought and then proceeded to pull off all the tags and stickers on the other clothes. After I was done, I looked at the bathroom door, surprised that Legolas was still in the shower. Making up my mind, I picked up one of the shirts, the jeans, the boxers, and the shoes, and then realized that he needed socks. Sighing, I took some of my own clean ones, stuffed them in the shoes and headed for the bathroom. Knocking to announce my presence, I called through the door, "I'm just gonna leave these inside the door for when you need them!"

A moment later, a very tentative voice replied, "Iorwen?"

"Yeah, it's me. I'm not coming in. I'm just gonna put your clothes in the bathroom."

"…yes. Okay." He didn't sound very sure, but I opened the door anyway and placed the stuff on the counter, not daring to look toward the shower where so much hot water was streaming down there was steam clouding the room.

Closing the door quickly, I headed back to the bedroom and turned up the TV loud on the weather channel before deciding that while he was still in there, I'd quickly go grab some food. The night before I'd noticed a small McDonald's next to the hotel, so I walked there easily enough and got breakfast. Walking back, I balanced two cups of orange juice and tucked the bag of food under my arm before hopping lightly up the stairs back to the room, hoping that Legolas hadn't gotten worried about where I'd run off to.

Pulling off a maneuver where I unlocked the door while still holding the food, I knocked the door open with my foot and shuffled inside before kicking it closed again in the same way. The TV was still very loud, some awful elevator music playing on the weather channel where I'd left it. I placed everything on the table next to the door and turned. At first, all I saw was the bathroom door open. Blinking, I continued looking and nearly swallowed my tongue when Legolas emerged a moment later, gloriously shirtless and damp from the steam, squeezing his hair dry with a towel. He'd managed to put on his pants it seemed, but I could tell just by looking that my socks had barely fit his rather large feet. These were just afterthoughts though; since I could hardly tear my eyes away form his lean upper body. I literally hadn't seen a guy's naked upper half in years. Not since my first year at college at least, and I couldn't remember them being nearly as impressive as Legolas was.

He didn't notice me at first, the TV was still too loud, I was speechless, and he was extremely focused on his hair. Looking up a moment later into the vanity he was standing in front of, I could see him find me in the reflection of the mirror and quickly he turned around, looking rather surprised. It probably wouldn't have been so awkward now in retrospect if I hadn't been so blatantly staring. It was a few moments before I could convince myself to look away from his body and the wet, unfettered blonde hair to pick up the remote on the table and turn down the blasting television set.

"Iorwen," he stated unsurely a moment later.

I cleared my throat of its dryness and nodded at the bathroom, "I see you figured out the shower…" He looked mildly confused at my wording, so I tried to rephrase it, "You understand how the shower works?"

He nodded, still looking very awkward as I kept my eyes from looking down, "Aye, I was curious about those large knobs on the wall this morning. It did not take me long to determine its use."

"Good…good…" I trailed off rather pathetically before pointing at the food on the table. "I got breakfast."

"Thank you," he said slowly, then reached down for his shirt next to the vanity and quickly yanked it down over his head, effectively allowing me to look at him fully again. He then picked up the shoes I'd bought him and headed over the table next to me.

"These are…shoes, correct?" He asked, handing them to me as though they were some infestation I needed to eradicate.

"Yeah. Yes, they are. Here, I'll show you how to put them on." We both sat down at the table, and I quickly explained to him how to correctly tie the shoes before handing them back to him. Much to my surprise, he figured it out immediately and put them on with ease.

Afterwards, Legolas looked down at himself. "So…now I look like a normal human male?"

I considered him closely. "You look good, but we need to do something about your hair."

It couldn't be cut short; that would expose the ears, and the ears couldn't be gotten rid of. Getting an idea, I quickly snatched up one of my hair bands and stood up. Taking his hair in my hand, but careful to avoid his ears, I drew it back to the bottom of his neck. I marveled momentarily at how soft and heavy it was in my hand. He hadn't even brushed it, but it didn't have any tangles and slipped through my fingers like fine silk. I quickly put the band around his hair, hoping he hadn't noticed how much I was enjoying playing with his hair and stood back to admire my work. It effectively covered up the ears. It looked better down, but I seriously doubted people would find his appearance…ungainly.

Legolas seemed to approve of my idea and we then each set about eating the meager breakfast I'd gotten. Afterwards, I gathered up our stuff and gave it to Legolas to put in the car before heading to the front office to return the key. Much to my relief, Mark was gone, replaced instead by a pimply-faced teenager playing with a Bop-It toy and doing very badly, too. It was a vast improvement, in my opinion.

Due to my overdriving the day before, we only had about two hours more before we reached our destination. We spent most of the time talking, well; actually, it was sort of me who was talking. I spewed out as much universal knowledge on Legolas as I possibly could. Electricity, rapid-fire arms, air-conditioning, and aeronautics were only a few of the subjects that I touched on. And, Legolas, amazingly enough, retained almost all of it. He didn't have to be told something two or more times before he remembered it. It made my efforts seem worth it.

Cascade Glen was a quaint little apartment that I had been renting for a little over a year. It was one bedroom with a nice open floor plan and a balcony that I greatly enjoyed. I liked my neighbors and my renter was a great lady. However, I forgot _all _of this when I drove up to my apartment and saw my bedroom lamp on near the window. I knew for a fact that I'd turned that thing off. Scrambling out of my car, I looked dumbly up at the window.

"Is something the matter?" Legolas' voice broke me out of my stare and I pointed at the window.

"That light was NOT on when I left."

Getting a concerned look on his face, Legolas followed hastily as I headed up the stairs to my apartment. I glanced under my floor mat, and, sure enough, my spare key was missing. As I reached out for the handle, Legolas grabbed my arm and got in front of me.

"What the He--"

He silenced me and pushed open the door. I backed off reluctantly as he walked into my living room. He disappeared and I waited patiently for a few moments. Not long after, I heard a loud smack that sounded not too far off from a pot hitting something and then a gasp. Refusing to wait, I burst into the living room and my eyes boggled at what I saw. Legolas was holding my best friend, Marian; captive in a headlock and my mother's old skillet was lying discarded on the floor. Marian was struggling to release herself, cursing all the while, but Legolas wasn't budging. "Let go of me, you twit! Get out of my friend's apartment!"

"Marian?" I blurted out.

She ceased struggling and Legolas, seeing the recognition in my face, looked between us both. "You are familiar with this woman?" He asked slowly.

"Of course she's "familiar" with me!" Marian yelled, "I'm her best friend! Now let go of me or suffer the consequences!"

I nodded at Legolas and without a word, he released Marian. She almost fell forward she'd been struggling so hard, but it was only a moment before she turned back around to glare at Legolas. "Who in the Hell do you think you are?!"

Legolas opened his mouth angrily to answer, no doubt intending to tell her full well who he was, but I quickly cut him off. "He's Chris! Chris, my…my cousin. He was over at my grandparent's house and he's gonna stay here for a while. He wants to take a job in Atlanta as a…a photographer!"

Marian looked dubiously between the two of us. "I don't see much family resemblance…" She commented.

"At any rate," I continued, desperately trying to change the subject, "What are you doing in my apartment while I'm away?"

Marian suddenly went from incredulous to guilty. "Uh, well… This is sort of embarrassing, but I had this big argument with Ben, and I didn't want to stay in our apartment, so I came here. I knew you wouldn't mind. I've been taking care of the place while you were away."

"If you knew I wouldn't mind, why didn't you just ask me?" I replied, one eyebrow elevating itself in that questioning look I knew Marian hated.

"Yeah, well…" She trailed off and then started suddenly, glancing over her shoulder to where my bedroom was and looking anxious, "I meant to ask you--you wouldn't happen to have a particularly large rodent problem in this place…would you?"

I lifted an eyebrow and shook my head. "Not that I know of…why?"

"Well," Marian shifted her feet and again glanced back at my bedroom, "Last night, when I was asleep in your bed. I heard this really loud thump in your closet and this…moaning sound came out of it. I was too terrified to go anywhere near it, so I just slept on the couch."

I was already heading for the bedroom, Marian close on my heels and Legolas right behind her, but not before she had snatched up the pot off the floor again. Opposite my bed, there was a large walk-in closet filled with all my attire and legions upon legions of shoes. As we entered the bedroom, I heard a funny noise emanate from the closet that made me stop in my tracks and cause Marian to raise the pot higher. I took a few more steps and partially stepped on a small envelope box that I'd left on my floor. It crunched and, suddenly, a loud scuffle was heard in the closet. It sounded very akin to someone hurriedly standing up. I grabbed the pot from Marian. But before I could go further, small appendages suddenly shot out from the small space under my closet door, grasping at the outside of it and shaking the door wildly. I almost wet myself.

"Jesus Christ!" I hopped backwards and Marian squealed as a desperate-sounding voice reached our ears.

"Help! Please! Release me! I have been trapped for so long! Please do not leave! I can not see a thing in this darkness!"

"Dear God," I said, turning to Marian, "You caught a Brit in my closet."

"Wha--" the voice squeaked, "I'm no Brit! I'm a hobbit. And hobbits don not enjoy being trapped within small dark space--"

"Frodo?!"

Marian and I turned in surprise as Legolas appeared in the entrance way, an amazed expression on his face. Without a moment's hesitation, the excited elf rushed towards the closet and, before I could stop him, yanked open the door. A midget with dark, curly hair tumbled unceremoniously out, causing Marian and I to run backwards to the wall in surprise and horror. "Frodo!" Legolas yelled, delighted, once again and lifted the small creature to his feet.

I stared in complete bafflement as the supposed ring-bearer of Middle Earth embraced Legolas, smiling so widely that I thought his cheeks would crack. "Prince Legolas! My, but I am pleased to see you here. I thought I had been captured or killed or…something awful of that nature. Every possibility in the world went through my mind, but eventually I decided that I had just been cursed to torture forever within a small room with only odd-looking shoes as company."

Legolas mirrored Frodo's exuberant grin and glanced over at me, "Nay, my dear friend. I am very pleased to inform you that you have only been transported to another world just as I have."

Frodo's smile vanished and he blinked. "I-I do not understand. How could I be…? I was going to depart for Valinor in only a few months. How--?"

Legolas turned grim and looked over at me. "Do you mind? I shall explain it to him myself."

I nodded dumbly, too shocked to reply, before pulling Marian out of the room who was in a similar state. Once we'd re-entered the living room, I looked over at my friend to see a very hard expression on her face. "What the hell is going on? I knew you were lying on the phone a yesterday when you said the landlord found termites in the house, so what's the deal? Who are these people?"

I sighed guiltily and took the skillet out of her hand. "I guess I should explain…"

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A/N: Well, here's another one that's been spewed out at the speed of lightning (at least, for me, it is.) I hope ya'll enjoyed. Be sure to review, lovely readers!

MusicalCharlatan


	8. Just Thought You Should Know

_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter Eight--Just Thought You Should Know

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"My God. Where the Hell did I put those books?!"

I had already gone through four different boxes that I'd had stored away in the back of my closet. I'd dug through the tons of boxes I had under my bed, sifted through the contents on my ceiling-high bookshelf and still I couldn't find my LotR series. Legolas was picking his way through my old album box with little luck. And also it didn't help that I kept getting sidetracked by old remnants of my past every time I looked through the boxes. I'd spend thirty minutes reading old diaries then realize that I had a mission to work on.

Getting seriously frustrated, I tossed my copy of Frank Peretti's "This Present Darkness" into the box and kicked it.

"Damn," I muttered. I hadn't expected for this to be difficult. The hard part was getting the elf-prince back home. Oh, and now it wasn't just his royal highness I had to deal with either. There was also a certain ring-bearer that had to be returned home as well.

Said hobbit quickly appeared at my side holding a triscuit covered in peanut butter with a slice of orange on it. I grimaced when I saw it. "God, I can't believe Marian got you hooked on those Bronco Trolley things, too." The disgraceful treats were from some site that Marian had found years ago. Evidently, she'd seen it on one of the games and tried it out for herself. Now she loved them.

"Hooked?" he asked, staring at the Triscuit like as though he had indeed swallowed hook, line, and sinker.

"Addicted," I answered, standing up.

Frodo nodded and glanced over at Legolas. "Have you succeeded in discovering the books yet, Master Elf?"

The prince looked up and shook his head. "Only books from some…Redwall series. And there are a lot of papers concerning some man called…"Brandon"--excessive amounts, in fact."

Horrified, I hastily snatched up the notebooks Legolas was holding that were covered in hearts and different versions of my signature. "Oh! Those! Those are…they're nothing. In fact, they're so much of nothing, you should forget all about them right now."

I could hear Marian snickering in the doorway, "Brandon Meyers? Oh, my God. Iorwen, you still have those horrible books? I thought you said you burned them?"

I mumbled something and shoved the books under my bed.

"What was that?" Marian teasingly replied.

"I couldn't do it…" I mumbled again, only slightly louder.

Legolas and Frodo both looked extremely confused. "Are these books…important?" Legolas asked, glancing towards the bottom of the bed where I'd hidden all the remnants of my middle school stupidity.

Marian laughed out loud and I mentally dared her to speak. "Of course not. They're just some stupid stories Iorwen wrote about her favori--"

"Thank you, Marian! Don't you have something to do?"

Marian looked at me strangely, "No."

"Sure, you do. You need to go get the Lord of the Rings series. Since you work at Barnes & Noble, it shouldn't be too difficult for you to get them cheap, should it?"

Marian grumbled something and took a bite out of a triscuit in her hand.

"What was that?"

"Fine, but I'll need to borrow your car," she growled out.

I nodded in consent, picked my keys up off the my bedside table and tossed them to her, which she of course promptly managed to drop.

"Are you ever gonna learn to catch?" I teased good-naturedly.

Marian glared at me, "You know, I could go get the books, OR…I could just hang around here and tell Frodo and Legolas all about middle school and how--"

"Bye, Marian!" I said, shoving her out of my bedroom.

Haughtily, she stalked through the living room to the door. "It shouldn't take long. Be sure to have some food ready for me when I get back," she warned, quite unnecessarily too, might I add.

"Oh, come on. As if there's any need to tell _me_ that. I'm even more of a pig than you."

Once Marian had gone, I turned to Legolas and Frodo who were staring at me blankly. "Hey, can ya'll put up these boxes while I stir up some grub?" Before either of them could even ask, I said, "'grub' being food, 'stir' being make."

Dinner, I decided, was going to be stir fry. I had a big bag of it that could be made easily and wouldn't be ridiculously fattening either. As I was cooking though, I realized something: Frodo and Legolas weren't doing _anything. _Frodo was only eating the remainder of the Bronco Trolleys, and Legolas was spinning a coaster on my coffee table.

"Ya'll aren't…bored, by any chance?"

"Oh, no."

"- of course not."

"-bundle o' fun."

"Really?" I set down the spoon I was using and walked around the bar so I was standing in front of them. "You're both very bad liars."

They only looked sullenly at me and I smirked. "Here," I walked over to the bookshelf next to the entertainment center and pulled off a board game from the bottom shelf. It was Trouble. I plopped it down in front of Frodo who looked at me dumbly. "What is it?"

"It's a game."

"A game?" Legolas intoned, moving from the couch to sit by Frodo on the floor. I laughed. He looked so much like a child when he did that. "Yes, a game. There's instructions inside, actually. Go ahead, open it up."

Frodo snatched off the top and stared at the game board inside. "Amazing," he said, pushing on the button in the middle with some delight. Legolas nodded his head in agreement. I handed the instructions to them and Frodo grabbed it eagerly. Good lord, Tolkien never mentioned that his characters were in love with board games.

Marian returned before long, a Barnes & Noble bag in hand as she walked in the door. "Never fear, my furry-footed, pointy-eared friends! I have the key to your return!" At this she held the bag up triumphantly, "AND I got them 20 off!"

"Magnificent. Well done.," I grabbed the bag out of her hand and took out the books, all of which were encased in a small box covered in plastic. I quickly opened it and tossed "The Hobbit" to Frodo, "The Fellowship of the Ring" to Marian, "The Two Towers" to Legolas," and kept "The Return of the King" for myself. "Your reading assignments. Read as much and as thoroughly as you can. Our mission: to find anything and everything related to portals, disappearances, other worlds, and…anything else that seems suspicious at all. But first, let's eat."

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He wasn't exactly sure where he was; it looked strikingly similar to the fields near Rohan, but he wasn't certain. When he turned his head, his mother was next to him and the happiness that he'd expected to feel was not there. She wasn't supposed to be here. It wasn't right.

She smiled at him and somebody else's voice entered his head telling him it was all jest. His mother disappeared and he was inside a great hall. Someone spoke, but he couldn't see them. "You never did want to actually come here. It was more of a beautiful thought that you were content to be without."

Legolas took a step in one direction but realized that the voice was coming from every direction.

"Even now, when you desire your homeland so much…you do not desire this place."

"And what place is it that you speak of?" Legolas called out, sounding braver and more assertive than he actually felt.

"Must I really tell you? Valinor, my immortal son. Land of the Valar. The Undying Lands. It has many names."

"What are you saying?"

"Simply this, Son of Greenwood…it was not to be. Let your heart be at ease. All that you love shall, in time, be seen again."

"I want to go home!" Legolas called out desperately, hearing the sentencing-tone hidden behind the words. This unknown voice would not keep him away from the land he was tied to.

"And you always shall. But you can not. And soon the chord that pulls you away shall strengthen. Do not pull against it. You have been awarded a most magnificent gift; you and all the fellowship. In time, you shall learn to appreciate and cherish it."

Legolas could feel the walls of finalization closing in on him. Internally, he knew that this was his last chance. "Please…whoever you are…send me home. Grant me this or I shall whither away in this strange world and any gift I've received will go completely unnoticed to me. I want no gift. I want my family and those friends of mine who are so near to kin."

"I pray, take back those words 'fore they damn you to tragedy. You've no idea what you speak of. You see only one piece of the masterpiece that the Valar are painting. Do not let your own foolishness and ignorance be the cause of your own end. Allow yourself a bigger glimpse and soon you will need little else. And, take this as a promise, when problems assail you that you cannot parry…I shall help you. I will _always _be with you."

In those words was some consolation but hardly enough to staunch Legolas' fears. So much had not been explained or answered. And, eventually, only one question remained. "Can I truly trust you?"

The answer was long-coming. It lingered in a void as tense and dangerous as the moment before a treacherous storm. "Few ever do."

It was still dark outside when he woke up. A soft drizzle was pattering against the windows and forging a calm that Legolas did not feel. He sat up on the sofa and sighed. Below him, laying on the odd air mattress that Marian had blown up, Frodo was sleeping, snoring contentedly.

What a horribly vivid dream. And he had no doubt that any part of it was true.

Throwing his legs to the side of the sofa, the beleaguered elf reached for the paper-back book lying so quietly on the coffee table. Yes, quiet. A book so full of knowledge, to Legolas, should practically be screaming its contents. But no…not this one. Only one in a series. A series? A _book_ series? Now that was one thing Legolas never thought would happen. That part of his life, his struggle, his allied conquest would become part of a book series for humans to read. To them it was entertainment…nothing more.

He randomly flipped to a page.

"To Legolas she sent this word:

_Legolas Greenleaf long under tree_

_In joy thou hast lived. Beware of the sea!_

_If thou hearest the cry of the gull on the shore,_

_Thy heart shall then rest in the forest no more." _1

Well, there went fortune speaking too loudly again. Of all the passages to instantly land on, the one that spoke of leaving his home was that one that he laid his finger on. He could remember Gandalf speaking those words so clearly too. Like as though he had said them a few hours before. Deep into Fangorn and scared for the lives of friends, Legolas and his companions had come upon the one whom they'd thought lost. Galadriel had given them messages through Gandalf, and for Legolas her words had never been darker. They reeked of foreboding and death. He'd had no time to dwell on them though due to their quest. Now, however, the words burned deeper and harsher than they had even in Fangorn. At the time, Legolas had instantly assumed that what she'd spoken of was his travel to Valinor, but now… Unless the lady had spoken untruth, which had never happened in all the life-ages of men.

Becoming frustrated, he flipped the pages again.

"_Suddenly there was a great shout, and down from the Dike came those who had been driven back into the Deep. There came Gamling the Old, and Eomer son of Eomund, and beside them walked Gimli the dwarf. He had no helm, and about his head was a linen band stained with blood; but his voice was loud and strong._

'_Forty two, Master Legolas!" he cried. 'Alas. My axe is notched: the forty-second had an iron collar on his neck. How is it with you?"_

'_You have passed my score by one,' answered Legolas. 'But I do not grudge you the game, so glad am I to see you on your legs!'_

'_Wel--_"2

At this, Legolas shut the book forcefully and shut his eyes. Lord, but he missed that revolting dwarf more than words could express. It had hurt just to read that. How could that unknown voice even suggest that he didn't know what he was talking about when he said he wanted to go home? His yearning was like that of a child who has lost the warmth of his mother's arms and searches desperately for her. But, as had happened many times in his life before, there seemed to be no answer to his predicament and misery prevailed.

He heard her coming before he saw her. Her human feet didn't tread lightly like those of his kin, but, unlike other humans, it didn't make her seem more clumsy. She simply was what she was: a mortal. He turned to see her walking into the living room, a thick and colorful blanket wrapped around her slender form to hold in the warmth that the winter night was stealing away. Her dirty blonde hair was tousled and much wavier than it had been hours ago when she'd showered before bed time. Her skin was pale in the darkness and her eyes extraordinarily dark. She had very beautiful eyes, actually. He was still trying to figure out what color they were. Due to the light, they often switched hues between blue, green, and a dark gray. When she spotted him, they expanded and blinked swiftly.

"What are you doing up?" she glanced at Frodo, "I hope Sir. Snores-A-Lot isn't keeping you up…"

"Nay. I did not even realize he was snoring until I awoke a few minutes ago."

"Really? I could hear him all the way in my room. Marian was threatening to bash his head in, but I managed to convince her that it wasn't worth it."

There was an awkward pause in which neither spoke. Then Iorwen noticed it. The book was still lying upturned in his hands.

"Late night reading?"

Legolas glanced down and then back up. "Just a little. I couldn't sleep, so I thought… Curiosity took me. I thought that I may have…missed something."

Iorwen nodded and looked down at the floor, biting her lip in consternation. To Legolas it seemed that she was debating something in her mind, something that didn't want to come out. The expression on her face when she looked back up assured him.

"Legolas…" she sighed, "I…I know that we didn't start off so great. I mean, I doubt that even in Middle Earth serrated kitchen knives are proper greeting." They both chuckled slightly and she continued, "And…I know that I was harsh to you much of the time and I'm sorry. But you've got to understand…nowdays, you can't just _take _someone's word for it. There's so much unrest, and anger, and distrust spawning in this world that I couldn't just let myself believe you immediately. I've been burned too many times and seen too many bad things happen to people who _did _let that happen…so, basically, what I'm saying is that…I believe you now. Everything you've said. Frodo's appearance has assured me. And not just that--I mean, you're… I trust you." She rubbed her shoulders and pulled the blanket closer. "I just thought you should know that."

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:Well, not my greatest chapter, but I do hope it suffices. It was difficult as Hell to write it all, too. So ya'll have to review otherwise I'll get mad and never write on this thing again. No, joking. But I will get mad.

MusicalCharlatan

1 "The Two Towers", J.R.R. Tolkien, page 112

2 "The Two Towers", J.R.R. Tolkien, page 160


	9. Time In A Bottle

_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter Nine--Time In A Bottle

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"If I could save time in a bottle…" my fingers picked out the roll on the strings from memory, nimbly switching chords and chiming in lightly. My voice was barely louder than a whisper over the song I played, and I was just fine with that. The beautiful part of "Time In A Bottle" was the music itself; not so much the lyrics.

"…till eternity passes away…"

The song brought back a myriad of memories, all dating back to my teen years when I'd first picked up a guitar. "Time In A Bottle" had been the first song I'd ever learned when I was young. I used to listen to my father play it, his large and ungainly-looking fingers picking out the song as easily and instinctively as a flower blooms in the spring. It had been enchanting, a perfect unification of man and instrument. I'd been determined to learn it myself.

The last note range out and I sighed, closing my eyes and resting my head on the ancient Gibson that had belonged to my father. He couldn't play it anymore. Not now, at least.

"If I had a box just for wishes

And dreams that had never come true;

The box would be empty except for the memory of

How they were answered by you…"1

I squeezed my eyes together tightly when a slight wetness began to assail their surface. Every part of that song spoke of my father.

"That was beautiful."

I glanced up in surprise to see Mr. Eros staring at me appraisingly, "I did not know you had such talent…"

"Practice makes perfect," I said sardonically, picking up the guitar and laying it back in its hard case. "After a while, you're no longer playing the guitar…the guitar just plays you."

"Why have you not played it more often?"

I snapped the last clasp of the case shut and sighed, "No time. And I'm out of practice. It's rather depressing to see how bad I've gotten over the years."

That was a bit of a lie. True, I was out of practice, but the guitar was one of those things that if you stayed away for a while and picked it up again you would relearn it quicker than the amount of time it took you to actually _pick up _the guitar itself.

"Only more reason to play more often."

"Is there something you want?" His nagging was getting highly exasperating.

"I have not found anything in the book."

"I know. It's been a week and nobody's found anything. I don't know what to tell you, Legolas."

"That you have another plan--another idea to get Frodo and I back home." His eyes were ridiculously pleading and it was all I could do to not run up and hug him.

"Look," I ran my hand through my hair in frustration, "You don't understand--"

He interjected, "Why can I not understand, Iorwen? Please, if you would just--"

"No. Listen. I still have to work no matter what, okay? So my help is a little limited. Marian works less, so she's more able to help, but neither of us can devote all of our time to you both."

"Then at least allow us to leave the apartment. Maybe outside Frodo and I can discover more--"

"Legolas." I said loudly, making him stop mid-sentence, "Atlanta is… You don't have any idea what you're saying. Cities are crazy places, and I don't think you'd know what to do with yourself out there. There's violence, protocol, social taboo, laws; so many things that you've never encountered."

"Iorwen." Legolas took a few steps closer to where I was sitting on the bed, and just his advance made me jump a little, "Frodo and I can _not _stay inside this apartment forever. Granted, it has only been two weeks, but I have not truly been outside in all that time. I AM A WOOD ELF, Iorwen. It is highly plausible that if I have to stay in here one day longer I shall rip everything inside this apartment to pieces. Frodo _also_ loves the woods and nature--he lived in a hole covered in a carpet of green grass for his entire life before he came here."

There was a very disturbing look in his eyes when he said this, but thankfully my attention was ripped away from that when I heard a crash in the kitchen and a very loud yelp. Jumping up, Legolas and I sprinted into the kitchen where Marian and Frodo were lying in a heap, both of them wearing a very peeved expression. I instantly realized what had been going on. "You two were trying to reach the Triscuits I hid up on top of the cabinets, weren't you?"

Marian answered angrily, "You fiend! Why can't you just leave Frodo and I to our Bronco Trolleys? We never said _you _had to eat them!"

"Because it's revolting just to watch you two eat them--that's why."

Frodo grumbled something as he stood up and I bent my neck a little in his direction. "What was that? Has our little Frodo anything to say on the matter?"

Frodo glared at me. "You know, I am not normally so hostile. I will have you know that when I was actually in Middle Earth I was a good deal cheerier than I am now."

I was confused. "What on earth does that have to do with what I just asked?"

Frodo blanched and looked equally--if not more so--confused. "I am…not…really sure." He quickly ran away, and I glanced over at Marian. "What's wrong with him?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. He doesn't seem anything like he does in the books or the movies, though."

I nodded. "Maybe it's just cause he's not in the middle of a war right now. No…" I lowered my voice, "ring-overpowerization."

I thought Legolas hadn't heard, but I of course forgot about his super hearing. He glanced at us sharply and I put a finger to my lips. Everyone had agreed that it would be best not to mention The Ring at all around Frodo. That was one of the reasons that I'd given him The Hobbit to read. It, out of all the books, mentioned The Ring least of all.

"Iorwen."

I glanced over at Legolas, "What?"

"You didn't answer my request from earlier."

Damn. This stupid elf didn't miss a beat. "I'm still leery about it, Legolas. I just…" I turned to Marian, "Do you think these two should be allowed out?"

Marian blinked. "Wha--? I mean…sure. Why not? They've been crammed in here for a long time now. It's only fair that they should be let out."

Legolas looked smug and I pressed further on Marian. "I mean, like…into the city?"

"NO!" Marian stared wide-eyed at Legolas, "Are you kidding? Him!" she pointed at the elf, "and him!" she pointed in the general direction of Frodo, "in one of the chaotic centers of our modern world?! Nu-uh. No way. I have two words for you: absolute disaster."

I smiled and turned to the elf-prince who was considerably more glum now that Marian had re-spoken. "See? It's a bad idea all around. There's no way you or Frodo are going to the city."

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"Found anything yet?"

I bent down next to Legolas who was typing in random information on Google. He'd picked up computer skills quicker than anything else we'd taught him so far. Despite the fact that the didn't understand all of it, (but who really does, anyway? Except for Bill Gates himself) He was able to pick up on the idea of a box containing vast amounts of information and interactive capabilities. I was quite proud of him. Because of his understanding of the computer, he was quickly becoming addicted to the internet and the information it could give him. It was his one connection to the outside world other than Marian and myself. Right now, he was looking at some page on World War 2 with great interest.

"Ah," I said seeing the topic he was reading, "Operation: Market Garden. Pretty big disaster, that. The Germans actually managed to wipe-out the British 1st Airborne Division. We lost the bridge at Arnhem, but, mind you, this is actually considered the last success the Germans were able to claim in the Western Campaign. We eventually sent them back into economic distress again--the same state they were in _before _World War 2 because of World War 1."

Legolas glanced back at me and smiled. "You seem to know a lot about this…"

"I love history, and wars have always fascinated me. Military campaigns, tactics, successes, and failures are something to be studied to me. I had actually planned on getting into the military after college in high school."

"Why did you not join?" Legolas looked only mildly surprised at my statement.

"I wasn't sure I could do it. And, truthfully, I was a little afraid. Pretty much the entirety of our military--any military--is made up of males, and…well, I knew I'd have a LOT to deal with if I got myself into a situation like that. Not only would I have to deal with the difficulties of competing with males in physical training, but I'd also have to deal with the males themselves. I don't think of myself as some voluptuous beauty that would have to beat off all the guys, but I was worried about the idea of having to deal with all the male hormones.."

Legolas looked grim. "It's a shame that men of your times act so primal. To the elves, women are considered precious. We treat them with the same respect that we would bestow upon a queen. Any male that hurt a female in my kingdom would be banished instantly. My father especially hates disrespect to women of _any_ race--including humans."

"He sounds like a smart man--elf, your father." I said, smiling down at the reminiscing elf.

"Yes," Legolas' face turned somber, "He is…"

I decided to change the subject. "You should look up the Red Baron. He was an extraordinary German fighter pilot of World War One. I think he had somewhere around eighty confirmed kills."

"Confirmed?"

"The number of kills a pilot makes--or a sniper for that matter--that are authenticated by authorities in a war."

"Eighty does not sound like so many to me. I, myself, have taken out around forty in one battle alone."

"Air-fighting is _very_ difficult, Legolas. It's not as simple as 'slash-and-hack' in the air. Especially not in World War One when American and French pilots had to shoot with the original Lewis Gun."

I was able to entertain Legolas with my knowledge of human warfare for another good twenty minutes before I finally ran out of steam and I realized I was hungry. But, to my dismay, when I headed to the refrigerator to find food there was nothing worthy of eating. "Marian! Did you and Frodo eat all of the lunch meat?!"

I heard Frodo snicker and Marian called back (with a full mouth), "No!"

"Mindless ruffians," I grumbled, too lazy to start a fight. Legolas looked at me inquisitively from the computer. "Do any of the Totinos pizzas remain?"

"No." I answered angrily. "Their Royal Shortnesses ate all of those, too."

Legolas brightened up. "That means you shall have to go get food, does it not?"

I glanced at him warily. "Generally, when one is out of food, one must go get food, yes."

"Can I accompany you, then?"

"No. Legolas we've been over this. I told you."

"You just said the city. But you are not going into the city, are you?"

"Well, no, but--"

"Then I shall come with you." Instantly, the ecstatic elf hopped up. I sighed, "All right, but only because you need to get more clothes. There's only a certain number of times I can rewash a pair of pants before they simply fade away to nothing."

Frodo suddenly came bursting onto the scene, carrying Marian behind him. "You two can not leave without me! I wish to be released from this prison as well!"

"No way." I stomped my foot, making the hobbit jump, "Legolas can go because he looks relatively normal. _You,_ however, are the height of a midget with grotesquely hairy feet the size of skis. And we can't cover them up, because nobody in the world has shoes that would fit them. Not to mention, your face is so familiar to virtually every preteen girl on the planet, we'd be running as soon as you walked into the store."

"But Legolas--"

"I don't care." Truth was, I really didn't. Cause as much as I wanted to deny it, I was sort of looking forward to some time with only me and Legolas again. I really did want to get to know him better, and that wasn't easy when I constantly had an agitated hobbit hanging off my arm and a Triscuit-deprived friend constantly asking whether or not she could borrow my car to go and plead with Ben to take her back. That talk I'd just had about warfare was the closest thing to a civilized conversation I'd experienced this entire week. I was dreadfully curious about Legolas now that I truly believed he was what he claimed to be. And I was dying to find out about Middle Earth from someone who'd actually lived there in Mirkwood.

Well, okay, yeah, that was mostly what I was telling myself. And it was true…partially. Another part of it was…Legolas fascinated me. Which is kind of what I said earlier, but this was a different type of fascination. Not the "wow-he's-from-another-totally-wicked-cool-world", this was more of a… "I-can't-analyze-him-like-everyone-else" fascination. There was something so horribly mysterious and hidden about Legolas--something I wanted to understand. There were so many things that he did that just didn't add up to me, like, say, how he could talk so carelessly about taking forty lives in a battle, but yet he blushed when he realized there was a bra laying on my dryer. Or when he would go out of his way to help me or Marian-just to be chivalrous--but then, at times, when he was being particularly melancholy, he wouldn't even look at me for hours on end. He was an enigma--something so totally and completely different from anything that I'd ever encountered. And it wasn't just his odd little quirks. Something around his eyes, those Elvin eyes… He had to be able to see things I couldn't. He just had to. Legolas was like some all-knowing, omnipotent being that I couldn't even hope to understand. Everything about his person was just so totally unreachable. But, yet…there was also something undeniably--pardon the expression--human, about him. In time, I hoped to figure him out.

"_If I could save time in a bottle…"_

I turned to Frodo and smiled, "No, Frodo. Not just yet."

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:Well, there we have it. I think you guys will notice that now there is some progress being made in their relationship. I hope it's all to ya'll's liking. (Yes, I just said "ya'll's." In Texas, you will find that "ya'll" can be adapted to pretty much any situation.) Please review, lovely readers o' mine!

MusicalCharlatan

1 "Time In A Bottle", Written by Jim Croce


	10. Trial and Error

_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter Ten-- Trial and Error

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"That looks really good on you," I said, examining Legolas as he came out of the men's dressing room. I'd picked out several outfits (yes, "outfits"--I know guys don't wear "outfits", but that was really the only thing to call this) and so far, every single thing I'd seen on him was…well, the first word that came to mind was stunning, but I guess that's not exactly suitable for a guy. He was very handsome in them.

The "outfit" he was currently sporting was an all black button down shirt, dark blue jeans, and some more suitable white tennis shoes. I figured it would probably be good to get him some dressier shoes just in case. Internally, I told myself that that was completely retarded--Legolas wasn't going anywhere formal, but I was having too much fun playing dress-up with my own personal elf-prince doll that I didn't care.

"These breeches are so loose in your world," Legolas said, jerking on his black belt one more time.

"Shhhhhh," I hissed at him, standing up and looking around warily. "Keep your mouth shut about stuff like that."

"I just can not understand," he replied, undoing the belt again and tightening it one more time, "It's as though all the males here just want them to drop right off."

"It's 'pants', Shakespeare," I said, "And it's supposed to be fashionable." I grinned and folded my arms.

Legolas looked up with a perplexed expression, "Fashionable? How so?"

"Listen, guys here are…much different from how they are where you're from. Pretty much the only thing guys want here is sex." For a moment, I could have sworn I saw a tinge of pink on the edge of Legolas' ears, but it quickly disappeared.

I figured he wasn't going to reply, so I was surprised when he did. "Then, I would imagine all the girls here are just a bit more than chaste…"

I snorted, and Legolas looked shocked.

"Are you kiddin' me? Girls are so dimwitted these days--all a guy has to say is 'Baby, I love you', and she'll give him pretty much whatever he wants."

"Surely, that can not be true of all cases?"

"Damn near," I answered, a tinge of anger lacing my words. Legolas instantly sensed something about my sudden change of emotion and stared at me curiously.

"You did not--?"

I turned to him, a little shocked that he'd ask anything like that, and he quickly shut his mouth. "Forgive me. I did not mean--"

"I was seventeen," I said, cutting him off, still looking away towards the furniture section. "I was feeling a little desperate since everyone of my friends had already lost theirs' to some guy. So I let--" I stopped, sighing, "He never talked to me after. I was just a stupid teenager. I haven't made the same mistake since."

Legolas, for once, was the one looking at _me _with pity in his eyes. "I guess that would mean you have not courted anyone since then, either…?"

"I haven't. And I really don't plan on it." I looked back at him and smiled weakly. "Life is mostly trial and error, anyway. And please don't say "courted". It's "dating", for Christ sakes."

Legolas didn't reply. He stood there awkwardly for a moment, then he glanced down at his clothes and looked back up. "Are we finished? I tire of all this…shopping."

I looked over the small pile of clothes we'd gathered and nodded. "Yeah, let's head over to the groceries."

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Five grocery bags and four bags of fashionable guy clothes later, we were walking out the store when Legolas spotted something. I was still heading for the door, talking to Legolas, or, at least, I _thought_ I was, when I realized that he'd disappeared…again.

Whipping around angrily, I scanned the store and easily spotted him standing in front of some display near the electronics section. Sighing, I hefted the bags and headed for him quickly, knowing that if I lost him it would be nigh on impossible to find him again.

"Chris!" I called out to him, using his fake name. There were literally about three guys that all looked up toward me when I said that.

Legolas didn't say anything, only continued to stare at the display. Getting frustrated, I walked up beside him and prodded him in the arm. "Hey. It's late. You're gonna make me late for my daily late night movie."

He turned to look at me and the expression on his face was so lost, I backpedaled mentally almost immediately.

"Legolas…?" I asked worriedly, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder, "What's wrong?"

He turned back to the display, and I followed his line of sight. It was a shelf of movies. I scanned the top few shelves, seeing nothing of interest until my eyes landed on three movies all side by side. The Lord of the Rings trilogy.

Legolas spoke up slowly, "I suppose I never really thought…or truly considered that…that what you said was true. Am I truly just…a character?"

I sighed, "No. Of course not, Lego--I mean, Chris…" I realized a moment too late, that using that name didn't really help.

He continued looking forlornly at the movies, like as though by staring at them he could make himself feel more real than my world permitted him to be. Pulling on his arm, I ushered him out of the store. Once outside, I found a quiet dark corner behind one of the pillars on the outside and pushed him into it.

"Listen," I began patiently, "I know you're starting to think that this is all hopeless, and…I'm kind of sorry to say that…I mean, I don't know what to tell you, Legolas. Unless, like, another portal randomly opens up or something… I'm just trying to say, Legolas, that I'm--I'm no magician, okay? I can't magically make you reappear somewhere that's not even supposed to exist. I'm truly sorry that I made that promise to you. If I could--"

Legolas placed a finger to my lips, and I stopped immediately. "Do not worry yourself over it. This is not of your making. I will return only by the grace of the Valar, I fear."

Without another word, he dropped his hand and walked around me toward the car. I stood there sadly a while, wondering to myself what more I could have told him. Wasn't there anything I could do? I wanted to help him so badly, but at the same time…. I found myself worrying that I was intentionally being so unhelpful. Was it possible that I didn't _want_ him to return?

"You're being a fool, Iorwen." I berated myself in the dark of the corner, "You can't do anything more and he knows that. Just stop agonizing about it."

And with that, I picked up my bags and followed him.

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:Sorry, it took me so long, but lately I haven't been in the mood to write and this was a hard chapter. Anyway, the next one shouldn't take so long. I'm not making any promises though, cause I think I'm going to post up another story on Fictionpress, so I'll be a little busy with that. Thanks for continuing to read everyone!

-MusicalCharlatan


	11. I Feel As You Do

-1_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter Eleven--I Feel As You Do

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_Legolas POV_

"Where have Marian and Iorwen gone to?"

I looked up from repositioning my green game piece, then glanced behind me towards Iorwen's room. "They went to her quarters."

I was worried.

I was almost positive that I could hear crying coming from the room. Well, actually, I was certain. I'd heard Marian talking to Iorwen earlier about Frodo and I. And towards the end of their conversation, a tenseness so large it was almost tangible had caused me to look up. I knew something was wrong. Marian hadn't looked well. However, I hadn't allowed myself to show any signs of noticing. Other than that, I supposed they both had forgotten (or simply didn't know at all) that elves have exceptional hearing.

"Trouble." Frodo said, jarring me out of my thoughts, and I looked down at the game board. Valar! The little imp had beaten me once again. I sighed and began picking up the pieces while Frodo looked for the box lid that we'd thrown carelessly away earlier. I quickly noticed that the small hobbit was not nearly as lively as he had been the past week, and I felt the need to inquire. "Are you all right, Frodo? I have not asked you how you have been fairing--away from home…"

Frodo only pressed his lips together and focused all his attention on putting the box lid back on. "I dreamt a dream last night."

I didn't feel that I even had to ask to know that it was about our home. I was already thinking of my own dream that had caused so much turmoil within me. "I am not even sure why I am asking--I feel certain I already know the answer, but…was it about our home?"

He nodded and paused. For a while I wondered if he'd even answer, but I dared not rush him. "I saw Bilbo. He spoke to me and told me that the Valar had accorded me a special honor--a gift that few had ever received and even fewer understood," _few ever do, _"However, he wouldn't tell me what exactly that gift was. He simply said that Valinor could not hold so much pain from one so small. That gave me a chilled feeling; one I've not felt since I had--" He stopped short and trembled, one of his hands clutching at something invisible around his throat, "Then I saw Gondor. As glorious and white-skinned as always, but different…somehow--much older. I saw that it had been many centuries since last we'd been there for Lord Aragorn's coronation ceremony. Yet, in the courtyard, I saw him…with Arwen and many of their children. And they both looked young in years. Somehow it was--it--it wasn't right, Legolas." Frodo looked up finally and furrowed his brow. "I am so mystified, yet I feel that the answer to everything is right in front of me--just resting at my feet, and I've only the need to reach for it. Do you feel like that at all?"

I stared hard at the Halfling that--for most of my life--I'd assumed was just another myth--a funny little tale told centuries and centuries ago. Yet…here he was…expressing my own thoughts better than evenI was able to do. Looking into his dark deep eyes, I saw once again the wisdom and experience that I'd overlooked this past week. So childish he'd seemed, so out of place and foolish when he was around Marian. But now, Frodo--the one I'd known during my time in the Fellowship, the one I'd thought lost--was so starkly apparent and vivid in all of his carefully-chiseled facets and open-ended cavities that I suddenly felt…young…compared to him. What horrors--what trials had this small apparition of a hobbit gone through that had made him so somber?

As the small shire-folk looked to me, expectantly waiting for an answer, I said the only thing I could. "Yes…yes, Frodo. I feel as you do."

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:Yeah, yeah. I know it's short, but I wanted to end it there. Just a little peek-a-boo into Legolas' mind there. I hope you guys all have a great Spring Break!

-MusicalCharlatan


	12. Just This Once

_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter Twelve--Just This Once

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_Iorwen POV_

"Iorwen…hey, Iorwen. Iorwen! HEY!" I jumped in my chair and quickly spun around to see my co-worker, Jared, leaning against the side of my desk wearing an amused expression. "I swear, girl," he laughed quietly, "When you get into your articles you really get into your articles."

I straightened up defensively, "Well, I'm excited. Joe doesn't usually give me this type of article. Usually I'm just running around taking pictures of local marathons and newly-opened pet stores."

"'cause you're good at it, Iorwen."

"Nooo. It's cause that's all he thinks I'm good at. But now I've finally got a real chance to write and I'm gonna make sure I do a damn good job of it."

Jared chuckled again, not sounding as believing as I wished he would. "There's that Texas accent again. Anyway, what's the article on again?"

"There was a fight down near the park between two cops and a few homeless guys that refused to sleep somewhere else. The hobos--that's the technical term--spat on one of the cops and the cop rapped him on top of the head with his nightstick. Lots of problems with this--other than just the fact that the cop shouldn't have done it: the "hobo" was a black man. People are screeching racism now."

"What do _you_ think?" Jared asked, humor in his eyes.

Picking up my stuff, I answered, "I think a cop acted irrationally and a few hobos were drunk out of their minds. The cop should be suspended for a while and the homeless guy needs to learn to obey authorities."

Jared started to follow me as I gathered up my other bag and began to head out. "Well, me and Michael--my roommate, ya know--we're having a party tonight. Some of the people from here are coming and a few of our college buddies."

"College buddies, eh?" I didn't need to hear anymore. College guys + parties me not there. "No, thanks…I've got plans."

"Oh, really?" I glanced over oddly at Jared and stopped. This moron was _flirting _with me. Damn. And I'd actually thought that guys were starting to get the message from the "fuck off" sign on my forehead. Hadn't my other idiot co-workers told this guy yet that I wasn't interested? Most of them had tried to mess with me at least once. Well…let's just kill two birds with one stone then, shall we? "Yeah. My boyfriend and I are going out to my parents."

"Oh." YES! Score for Iorwen. "Well, have a good time then. Be sure to tell me if you change your mind." He flashed me a smile and started to return to his desk.

"Yeah--sure will," I called. "…Asshole…" I muttered once he was gone.

Sighing in frustration, I turned back around, heading for the parking lot faster than ever.

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"So this woman--she turns around with the damn bookmark in her hand--looks at me with this smug expression on her face and says: 'do they come in pink?' MY GOD!! I had to stop myself from beating her senseless with the Thomas the Train book I had in my hand. The nerve! Where do people get the idea that--just because they're customers--they can demand of and insult any employee they feel like? I mean, just the way she said it: do they come in _pink…?_" Marian growled and plopped the piece of sirloin on the pan with an infuriated sigh.

I nodded absentmindedly and continued to chop the purple onion laying on my side of the counter. Marian didn't continue. At this point--if I hadn't been in Iorwen Land--I would have realized that she was glaring into the back of my head.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Huh?" I glanced back behind me quickly then went back to my onion. "Nothing. Nothing's the matter. I'm just thinking about what I'm gonna do with my article on Sunday. What type of perspective, the research involved, you know, that…type of…stuff."

"Uh-huh…" I could tell Marian wasn't completely convinced, but she didn't press it any further. I was supremely glad, too. "So…other than the article…what are you planning on doing this weekend? We've _gotta _do something. Frodo's practically memorized every facet of the game Trouble, and Legolas is gonna turn into a techie if we don't get him away from that computer soon."

"I don't know, actually. But…" I paused; a new thought entering my mind asking clearance to hit the open air, "Marian…" I glanced at her and she paused completely, "Do you…ya know, they've been here a long time. We haven't found anything…and--I mean--is it possible that….?" I sighed and dropped my cutting knife. "Those books haven't offered up anything. I read Return of the King from front to cover. I'm worried that we may never find a way to get those two back to where they came from. Is there anything that we haven't tried yet? We've scoured the internet, researched books--not only the series, we even shook the little eight ball for an answer…"

Marian sighed and prodded the sirloin weakly, a far-off look in her eyes. "I think it's safe to say, Iorwen, that their situation is now in the hands of God. We've done all we can--at least I think so. At this point, I think it would be best to just let things…flow. Maybe wait for something to happen."

God, it sounded so weak. And it was. But it was all we had now. It broke my heart to see the homesick looks that lurked in the shadows of Frodo and Legolas' eyes, but--as I was not the Almighty--I couldn't do anything about it except lightly console them. I say that like I actually do that. Marian was the one who consoled. I awkwardly patted Legolas on the back when he started to read the Two Towers and he had to shut it when it became too hard for him. Marian smoothed Frodo's hair, kissed his forehead, and gave him cookies. All of which made him smile and laugh at her childish support.

I was much better around Legolas when I was explaining to him the rules of football and laying out--on paper--the steps to belching on command. (He was fairly amazed at that ability of mine) But lately, his despondency over being away from home was becoming even worse. I could tell just in the way he ate an apple on the couch during the day watching news. Or how he would stay outside on the little balcony for hours at a time--just staring at the horizon line that was carved out by skyscrapers and tree-belittling office buildings. His depression was becoming contagious. So much so that I was beginning to wonder if something else was plaguing his mind.

Scooping up the cut onions into a tiny glass bowl, I placed them next to Marian and headed for the door. Legolas, who was still at the computer, watched me with curiosity as I walked out onto the second floor. Rubbing my temples, I slowly walked over to the green railing overlooking the front lawn in front of the small complex and relaxed against it. Behind me, a door opened. For some strange reason, as I turned around, I expected to see Legolas' perplexing blue eyes rounding the door to where I stood. As it turns out: it wasn't even _my_ apartment door opening. Ms. McCrery, the old woman who lived across from me appeared in her pink bathrobe, holding her dog, Cocoa.

"Hello, Ms. McCrery." I tried to sound as polite as possible. The woman was a witch.

"Oh…it's you out here, is it? You the one who's been causing so much racket these past few weeks? I keep hearing voices from in your place. I saw that friend o' yours go in there a while back, and I had half a mind to call the authorities on her. That good-lookin' blond boy hasn't come out of there much since he walked in either. Just figures. Indecent girls like you are always livin' with some boy these days." She shook her head and leaned down to pick up Cocoa's bowl that was sitting outside. Standing up straight again, she scowled at me and shook the bowl, "You tell whoever's in there with you to keep it down. I got enough problems these days without a bunch of hormonal young people bothering me." With that, she turned around and disappeared back into her cave that smelled of cigarettes and dog hair.

"Bye, Ms. McCrery," I called, a blank expression on my face. God, I hated that woman.

Turning my attention back to the front lawn, I leaned against the rail heavily and yawned. _"I've got enough problems these days…" "_Yeah? You and me both, Ms. McCrery….you and me both…"

Aside from my the article I had to whip out this weekend, the worries that I held for Legolas and Frodo were eating me alive too. And NOW, thanks to Jared, another question was pervading my mind space. _Why are you so reluctant to get near guys now? You're older now and you can handle yourself better than you did when you were seventeen. So, why not just try something out, eh? _

But Jared? Blah. No.

_You have another chance, _said the voice.

And what is that?

_Don't play stupid. The party, you numbskull. There'll be plenty of guys there._

Frat boys? My God, no.

_There won't just be frat boys there, retard. If you took Mr.Eros along he could knock out all unwanted competition. _

What are you saying?

_I'm saying: you keep Legos by your side--scare off the bottom-feeders and then make your own move on any that strike an interest._

Sounds way too aggressive for my taste…

_I know, just what you need. Something out of the ordinary, right? How about that?_

One more problem with your theory. Legolas has never been to a party before.

_He'll be fine. The guy knows how to handle himself, right? And you won't be away from him for long at all. Besides, all the floozies in the place will be trying to make idle chatter with him anyway, so he'll just stand there looking petrified while they hang on his arms. It's not like he's gonna have to know what to do or anything._

It still doesn't sound right…

_Agh! For once!…could you just go with me on this one…just once…?_

I stood up straight and bit my lip; the question bouncing around in the inner workings of my brain. "Okay…just once…"

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:Wow, that took me longer than expected. Sorry about that, people. I had some writer's block there for a while. But now that it's gone and I have an idea, I'll be able to run with it, so the next chapter should come out relatively soon. Adios, amigos!

-MusicalCharlatan


	13. So It Seems

_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter Thirteen--So it Seems

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Disclaimer--all book names, inserts, and otherwise named external additions are NOT MINE!! So, don't harass me. I do try to give credit to where credit is due.

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_Legolas POV_

(533 - 597) - The War of Wrath

"_Eärendil throws down the new race of flying Dragons sent against him by Morgoth in the War of Wrath launched at last by the Valar and the Elves faithful to them. Morgoth is seized, bound, and thrust out into the Void in permanent exile. The whole of Beleriand, right up to the Ered Luin mountains, is overrun by the Sea. Many Elves take ship for the Undying Lands; others prefer to cross the mountains and dwell on the wide continent of Middle-earth lying behind it. The two remaining Silmarils taken from Morgoth and entrusted to Manwë's herald, Eönwë, are seized by Maedhros and Maglor. The Silmarils so burn the brothers that they realize their forfeiture, by their crimes, of any right to possess the Jewels. Maedhros despairingly throws himself and his Silmaril into a fiery crevice in the Earth. Maglor pitches his Silmaril far out into the Great Sea. Ever after, the Minstrel wanders alone on the shore singing songs of sad remorse. He never returns to Valinor."1_

I scanned the page with some amount of interest. In my mind's eye, a picture of Maglor kneeling upon the shores of the Great Sea, tears streaming down his repentant face, presented itself in disturbing clarity. The strange luminescence of the computer screen that-to this exact moment-bothered my eyes and amazed me at the same time, glared onto my pale skin and throbbed. Next to the paragraph, a picture of a slim figure standing on dusky shores threw a glaring white orb into the onslaught of the restless seas. For a moment, this picture stunned me to a degree that none ever had before. In the libraries of my father's palace I had found many books on the history of my people. There had been extraordinary pictures in them. Much better than the one that was currently plastered to this computer screen. This one looked fake. The others had been so vivid, done by hand by elves of unnatural skill. However…I could not deny that as I stared at the screen, a strange feeling came over me. One of grief and…the same type of repentance that Maglor had been exhibiting in my mind. Guilt like I'd never felt before engulfed me till I could hardly breath. Somewhere far into the back of my mind…those same words…those uttered by the unknown voice crept back into my mind; so mournful and desolate: _"Few ever do." _

Was this it? Was this one of the examples the voice had been speaking of? If so…why would it effect them so? Who was this person?

….who cared so much about the race of elves that it would pain them to see this happen? Who?

The answer struck me like a straight blow from a hammer. It rang through my chest, sending reverberations through my limbs and making me shake like a leaf in autumn.

_The Valar, you fool. The VALAR!_

But…what could they want with _me? _Standing up shakily, I looked back towards Frodo who was thumbing through his assigned book: The Hobbit. My breath still shuddering, I took a few steps towards the hobbit, my mind laboring with an explanation.

_The Valar--the Valar--holy Elbereth! I yelled at one of the Valar! What could they want? Why me? Why not you? Frodo is here as well… _

I examined the hobbit, so innocently reading his book. _He is much more important than you….so…why? What of the others? Mayhap it was not just you and Frodo… What was that the hobbit told you? Aragorn--standing at the height of Minas Tirith--as young as ever and thriving…. What is happening here? _

A thought suddenly struck me, a massive blow that caused me to sit down on the old couch in Iorwen's living room.

_You must find the others._

What others?

_The fellowship, fool. You two are not the only ones. _

The other members could be here-on this earth?

_Maybe…it's a possibility. But don't think of just that._

I don't believe it.

_Neither do I. Talk to Iorwen…see what she knows._

Almost stumbling, I stood up and headed for the door quickly. I unconsciously noticed Frodo's head swivel up to watch me as I left. His clear blue eyes saw right through me as I opened the door and stepped out onto the concrete walk of the complex. Iorwen, who was leaning against the railing, quickly spun around, shock on her face as she perceived me. For some reason, I suddenly felt that the situation had turned awkward.

"What are you doing out here?" She asked, looking me up and down as though searching for her answer.

"I--" I stopped, thinking of how to carefully word my answer. Was there really any easy way to put this? "Do you…Iorwen, I-I think there might be others here."

"What?" She gaped at me. Standing up straight, she took an unsteady step towards me then stopped. "What are you talking about, Legolas? Why would there be others here? You mean, the fellowship?"

"Yes. I think the Valar might have sent them here as well."

"But…why?"

"I know not. But I do know something has happened involving them."

Iorwen sighed and ran a lightly tanned hand through her dirty blonde hair, a fatigued look overtaking her expression. "Legolas…I can't look for more of the fellowship. I think you're wrong anyway."

"Why?" her answer, for some reason, did not surprise me.

"Because, Legolas, I just don't think so. I have a feeling…call it intuition, if you will."

"So do I…"

She glanced up at me and grinned, "Then it seems we are at an impasse."

I grinned back in return. "So it seems."

Iorwen turned back to the railing and I joined her. "Why did you come out here?" It was a blatant question on my part, but I really was not in the mood for pleasantries. She didn't seem to mind anyway.

"To think."

Simple enough. "What of, my friend?"

She glanced at me, an odd expression on her face that I couldn't quite place. "Just thinking of life in general. I was invited to a party…and I'm thinking of going…"

"That sounds good."

"…and taking you with me."

"What?" Surprise made my neck whip my head around like a rock on the end of a rope. Words failed me. These past few weeks I'd been trying my hardest to get out of this claustrophobic apartment and suddenly it was just offered to me and by the one person who had been denying me so vehemently for so long. "Why?" I gasped out the question.

"I don't want to go on my own."

"Why not take Marian?" At this point, I had no idea why I was questioning her except maybe for the sole reason that I was now worried about her health. This couldn't be Iorwen I was talking to.

"Marian has to stay with Frodo and she doesn't do well at parties."

"I still can not understand why you are suddenly letting me out of this apartment…"

She paused. I thought she looked a little guilty for a second, but the look didn't stay long. "Just for tonight, okay? You don't really want to turn it down, do you?"

No. No, I didn't. And it was lucky for her that I _did _want to go.

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:Haha!! Cliff! I could have gone further than that, but I didn't feel like it. You guys can just suffer a while. .

-MusicalCharlatan

1 /mithrandircq/Silmarillion-Chronology.htm


	14. A Million Ways to be Cruel

_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter Fourteen-- A Million Ways to be Cruel

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_Iorwen POV_

Marian stared at me oddly as I played with the dress in my hands. She knew better than anyone that there was something wrong with me. She had watched me through the entire time that I'd checked my email--searching for the message that gave the directions to Jared's house. She'd followed me as I'd opened my closet to look for something to wear; she'd even picked out the shoes that went with the outfit. Now, however, as I sat there in front of my vanity, all the unanswered questions that had become inevitable, the ones I'd prolonged while I was chopping the onion, they were now causing the tension in the air to tingle.

"Legolas told me that ya'll are going to some party…?" It was a stupid thing to say at this point, and she knew it.

"You heard correctly."

"What changed your mind, Iorwen?" I refused to look at her. This action of mine was about so much more than just letting Legolas leave the apartment. I hadn't been to a party since my junior year in high school. Marian didn't dismiss uncharacteristic actions.

"Jared gave me a convincing argument."

"But what does Legolas have to do with it?"

"Like I told him: I don't want to go alone, and you have to stay here with Frodo. It won't hurt for Legolas to see a little of what our world is like. Other than this apartment, he hasn't seen anything but Target, a bunkhouse, and a crappy hotel. And besides…" I turned to the vanity and began brushing my hair, "If him and Frodo are going to be here for a while like I think they are…it won't hurt to start introducing Legolas _now _to the world he may be stuck in…forever…"

Marian didn't say anything. How could she? Up until this moment we'd danced around the possibility that our two new residents might become permanent citizens. Always implied, but never declared openly. It hurt both of us to think that we'd have to endure the suffering of two homesick characters that didn't belong here at all. However, it also has to be admitted, that we dreaded the thought of them leaving at the same time. We were both becoming immeasurably fond of our "charges", but their pain at being away from middle earth was a feeling that they'd unintentionally transferred to us. Hence the reason we'd tried so passionately to help them away.

"That's an interesting concept, Iorwen…one problem though: introducing two people who've been absent from planet earth their entire lives into a society that is not friendly…I don't think it will be easy somehow."

"But we have no choice!"

Marian started at my spontaneous explosion. Sighing, I picked up the brush that I'd thrown to the ground and looked up at her feeling just a little more than foolish. "Marian…up until this point, we've been thinking of their stay as something temporary, but now…things have changed. They've both got to learn how to live here--and live here _independently. _Otherwise, they'll be stuck with us--in situations they won't be able to bear and--"

"But, Iorwen, there's still a chance. A chance that they can get back somehow! We just need to wait for something to happen."

"Oh, don't be naïve, Marian!" I slammed the brush onto the vanity and stood up; completely infuriated."You and I both know it's never going to happen. They've been here nearly two months. If anything could have happened, it would have happened before this!"

"How do _you_ know?!"

I blinked, surprised at the ferocity that was laced into Marian's bellow. She looked away, suddenly conscious of what she'd yelled. "I didn't mean--it's just, Iorwen…there seems to be a lot at work here that we don't understand. I said it was in God's hands, but there's still a piece of me that believes they can get back."

It was quiet a while before I stood up, holding my dress in one hand. "I need to get dressed."

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_Legolas POV_

At this point, I was floundering in an emotion that I had only touched lightly before. It wasn't necessarily terror--it was something far more unknown and anonymous--if such a thing can exist. It was exhilarating to know that I'd be leaving the apartment, but on top of that, I had no idea what to expect. Instinct told me that a party would be vastly different from a visit to Target. So far, I'd seen very little of the outside world. Most of it had been confined to staring out a car window. But besides all the new doubt that was consuming me, I was thinking of Iorwen…and why she had suddenly decided to change things.

I don't remember when exactly I told myself to stop worrying. I think it was right before Iorwen walked out of her bedroom, wearing jeans, boots, a leather jacket, and a black shirt that showed more of her chest than she looked comfortable exposing. It wasn't exactly revealing, but it was enough to make me force my eyes up to stare into her own dark grey ones. It wouldn't have been a stretch to say she looked stunning, but somehow the appearance she was now exhibiting pleased me less than her normal one. This one was faker. I liked her better when she wasn't wearing any of that odd make-up stuff--she looked more natural then. As I trained my eyes to look at her face; she took one look at me and frowned. "Why aren't you dressed?"

"I do not have any idea what you attire yourself in to attend this type of party." I was actually quite baffled that she'd ask me such a thing. I'd only been here a while and she expected me to know how to dress myself for a human party during a time period I was barely acquainted with?

Iorwen quickly disappeared into the closet that we'd been using to store my clothes in and reappeared with some of the newer things she'd gotten at our last outing. She quickly tossed it at me and pointed to the bathroom behind her. I quickly obeyed this crude and abrupt order on her part and had myself ready. When I came back out, she only nodded at me before grabbing the keys from the counter and heading for the door. I called out a hurried goodbye to Frodo and Marian before I closed the door behind me. Behind me, through the door, I could hear Marian. "That girl knows a million ways to be cruel."1

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:The next one should be much longer.

-MusicalCharlatan

1 song "A million way to be cruel" by Ok Go


	15. Black Edges

_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter Fifteen--Black Edges

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_Legolas POV_

"Oh, my God." Iorwen stopped short as we came near the huge two-story house that was blasting music. We had just come up to the sidewalk when she finally got a good look at the house. She looked like she was going to be sick. And I have to say, I almost didn't blame her. The house was utter chaos. All over the lawn, young and inebriated youth were talking, drinking alcohol, and some of them even engaged in what looked like the beginning stages of foreplay.

"It's a frat party…" she whispered weakly next to me and I glanced down at her. Her face was suddenly very pale and she looked like she desired nothing more than to make a run for it.

"Are you all right, Iorwen?" I asked, concerned at the expression on her face.

"I…I don't know."

"Do you wish to leave?"

I glanced back towards the house, this time noticing a man heading towards us. He looked about 22 or so in human years, a blue shirt hanging off a lanky but well-muscled frame, with faded jeans and an eager expression on his face.

"Iorwen?" he called, and I glanced back questioningly to said person.

She didn't look happy at this new man's appearance. "Hi, Jared. How are you?"

"Oh, man. I'm good--I'm good. I'm surprised to see you here actually. This that boyfriend you were talkin' 'bout?"

Iorwen nodded slowly, a blush growing on her cheeks, I noticed. Boyfriend? What was it that Iorwen had told me? The equivalent of a courtship partner? I started and coughed slightly in my throat. Neither of them seemed to notice.

"You've got to come and play some pool with me before ya do anything else. The dance floor right now is so crazy--I don't think you'd want to go there…yet." He grinned and took another swig from a beer can he had that I hadn't seen earlier. The guy was obviously a little tipsy. "We'll take it a few steps at a time, right?"

He chuckled drunkenly and grabbed Iorwen's arm. He didn't grab it very tightly, but still I felt myself rise up on the balls of my feet, a protective feeling overpowering the rest of my senses. I felt my blood begin to boil slightly as I followed them both into the raucous house. Inside, things were much worse than outside. The "dance floor" as Jared had called it, wasn't so much a dance floor as it was an upright orgy. I saw Iorwen and Jared disappear in the masses and I quickly followed. However, as soon as I came within a foot of the dancing, it seemed that my body was no longer a personal place. As I tried to maneuver through the masses, more than a few girls began rubbing themselves against me in a way that I was forced to assume was a type of dance. My attempts to get them away from me were fruitless. As soon as one girl left another appeared. I strained to contain the feelings that washed over me as each new girl got near me. Never before had I been in such a situation. I didn't know what to do. My heart raced as I searched for a way out of the throng of writhing bodies. All around me the hoarse sound of the music was so loud that I felt as though it was beating against my brain. I became suddenly desperate to get away from the people around me. Maneuvering past a girl wearing a revealing pink top and a short skirt, I rushed off the dance floor, my heart going so fast that I had to force myself to lean against a wall for a few moments to calm myself, closing my eyes and sighing.

When I opened my eyes, I realized something: Iorwen was gone with that Jared guy and I had no idea where she was. Panicking for a second, I scanned the open house area. Jared had said something about playing pool. But what was pool? And where would that be located in the house?

Seeing a decently sober youth in the far corner of the room off the living room, I flitted through the talking people to reach him. He too was engaged in conversation with a young brunette that looked a good bit drunker than him. This fact however didn't seem to upset the boy one bit. In fact, he had a large grin on his face as she struggled to say a word that began with the letter "d."

"Hello, excuse me." I came to stand in front of him right as the brunette began to remember that the rest of the word sounded something like "down."

Eyeing me warily, he raised his beer can in a sort of pathetic greeting. "Hi."

"Could you tell me where the pool is?" I asked bluntly.

The guy looked at me like I was an idiot but silently pointed to a door located at the back of the living room. Nodding in thanks, I made my way to the door and pushed the door out. I wasn't at all prepared for the sight I found outside. There was a pool there all right, but I somehow didn't think it was what I was looking for. Everywhere I looked, partially naked men and women were swimming and cavorting. All of them seemingly unaware that the apparel they were in was barely enough to cover their important parts. None of the girls looked even remotely bashful. In fact, they all seemed to be flaunting what girls from my time hid religiously. Spinning around so that I wouldn't have to gaze on the disturbing spectacle anymore, I quickly headed back inside the house. I was never going to play pool.

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_Iorwen POV_

I was very aware that Jared was bordering on drunkenness, and it didn't please me. As soon as he started to pull me into the throng of dancing maniacs, I suddenly felt my senses come back and I looked around frantically for Legolas. I saw him for a split second right before a tall, dark-haired boy obscured my vision, apparently really getting into his partner.

"Hey, Jared." I tried to stop him but he couldn't hear me as he bullied his way through the dance floor. I didn't manage to get myself free until we were on the staircase heading up. "Hey, I have to go back and get Chris--"

"He'll be fine, girl. Come on--there are some people here I want you to meet."

I followed Jared reluctantly as he walked me down the hall past couples making out. We reached the door at the end of the hallway and he opened it for me to walk through. Inside were two massive pool tables with overhanging lamps. All the people who were still sober enough to play were bending over the tables, lining up their poles on the balls. The room was almost completely surrounded by windows, all of which looked out on the pool down below. Feeling severely out of place, I stood my ground as Jared walked forward to greet three guys standing by the nearest table. After a few words from him, they all turned and gave me smiles that didn't make me feel secure at all. The tallest one, a handsome guy with dark hair and green eyes stuck out his hand to greet me. "Hi, I'm Jason. This is Edward--" he pointed to a small, Mexican college kid with a large smile that told me instantly that he was the class clown, "and that's Elliot." He pointed again to a striking blonde-haired boy that looked like he wouldn't be out of place in an Abercrombie magazine. I shook hands with all of them--all of them giving me big smiles--all of them saying hi in a sweet way.

"So you're with Jared now," asked Edward, glancing over at Jared who looked smug.

"Uhh….no. I-I already have a boyfriend."

"Ha. That figures. The only free girls these days are either pregnant of ridden with STDs."

They laughed. And I chuckled awkwardly. "Say, you wanna play some pool?" asked Elliot, pointing to the pool table.

"Um--sure." I felt like an idiot as I walked forward slowly to pick up one of the poles leaning against the wall.

"That one's Jason's," said Elliot, coming up behind me suddenly, "Here. Take this one." He grabbed a pole off the rack that was attached to the wall and handed it to me.

"You want a drink?" Jared asked as he picked up his own pole from off the wall.

I gulped and took a glance at the table across the room that was groaning with the weight of beers, punch, and chip bags. Alcohol sure would loosen me up bit, that was for sure. But that was precisely what I was afraid of. I touched the leather bag leaning against my leg, reassured, feeling for the long object lying inside it. "No-I'm good. I…I don't drink."

"You don't drink?" Jason laughed at me and shook his head. "Damn. You're probably the first chick I've met in two years who doesn't drink. Well, we've got punch. You can have that instead if you want."

"That's ok--" I started to speak but Jared quickly cut me off.

"Here. I'll go get you some." He said quickly, bounding across the room to scoop up some punch. I didn't decline when he handed it back to me some 30 seconds later.

The guys were already arranging themselves around the table, Edward lowering his pole first to take his shot. I watched as he broke the triangular assortment of balls on the table and then took his place behind Jared as he got his shot in. I went after Elliot, taking an abysmal shot that nearly sent the white ball flying over the table's edge. The guys only chuckled though and made little jeers about me being better than Edward who accidentally caused his pole to fly past the cue ball. I stood by silently, taking turns when it was my try and taking growing sips of my punch. I don't remember exactly when it was, but somewhere around the time that I'd taken my 6th shot, I began to feel a growing pain in my head. Groaning, I grabbed for my head and backed up to lean against the windows overlooking the pool.

"Goddamn…" I muttered, wondering why I was suddenly getting a migraine this late at night. Over near the table, Edward made a joke about how I'd finally managed to utter a curse. It had been an ongoing joke tonight after I'd said I didn't drink that I was a less-strict version of a nun.

"You okay, Iorwen?" Jason asked from somewhere to my right, not sounding very concerned at all.

"I'm fine." I said, standing up straight again, leaning slightly against my pole. "Let's play."

Three more guys went, my head pounding harder and harder as the minutes passed, until finally Elliot took his shot and leaned back for me to take mine. Blinking my eyes when my vision swam slightly, I leaned down over the table with the pole in hand, trying to ignore the pain that was slowly beginning to make its way down to an area that I could only describe as right behind my eyes. The blue-striped ball in front of my pole grew in and out of fuzziness before I started to arrange my left hand around the far-end of the stick. _Just look at the ball--forget about the headache. Just focus…just focus…on the--on the… _

The ball shot off the table as my pole slid forward like a fork of lightning and my legs gave a violent tremor before collapsing like a stack of cards. I started to slide off the table, my entire body feeling numb before I felt hands grabbing under my arms and hauling me up. Somewhere in the back of my mind I could hear their voices all around me.

"She's okay."

"--little too much to drink…"

"--out here, okay."

Somebody began guiding me away from the table, my weak legs taking shaky step after shaky step as I headed somewhere I didn't know.

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_Legolas POV_

I had positioned myself cleverly in the shadows of several Photinia bushes, evading the paths of the drunken college students all around me. I couldn't be near any of them. I couldn't stand being near their raunchy, completely-shameless ways and hiding had seemed like the best option. I'd searched the house over several times, but never going into any of the rooms for fear of what I might find. I'd thus positioned myself so I could await Iorwen's emergence from the house when we were to return home, which couldn't be long seeing as how she'd so obviously wanted to leave earlier anyway. I was musing over the expression on Iorwen's face when she'd seen the house when the door opened, emitting four men and a very sick-looking Iorwen. At first, I didn't even realize it was her. I simply watched as they crossed the lawn, making their way towards what appeared to be a large shed behind the house. Then I saw her large leather bag smacking against her wobbly legs as they walked and something inside of me stirred. Emerging from behind the bush feeling slightly panicked, I rushed after her as they began to head inside the shed. Something definitely wasn't right.

I caught the shed door just as it was about to close and held it securely as somebody tried to close it. "Hey, Jared, your damn door's stuck."

"Just leave it. Nobody's gonna come in."

"I thought you said her boyfriend was around here somewhere."

"Give me a break, Elliot. There are half-naked girls all over this place--do you really think that prick'll be worried about the whereabouts of his uptight girl?"

"Good point," laughed someone's husky voice near the door. "Wait, who says you get to go first?"

"I started this in the first place, you dumbass. Don't worry. I don't think I'll be long." I heard the sound of a zipper being undone and all the patient-hunter skills that I had been using not to bust down the door suddenly flew out the window.

Flinging wide the door, I grabbed the figure nearest to me in the doorway and slammed my fist neatly into his nose and then kneed him in the groin, so as to prevent him getting up at all in the near future.

"What the--!"

Three other figures in the shed jumped in surprise and one of them headed for me, picking up a shovel lying against the wall before lashing out at me. I ducked and knocked out the legs of my attacker before bringing a hard fist down into his stomach and twisting it painfully. Two more jumped on top of me, one of them attempting to jab me in the stomach while the other tried to take a swing at my face. I ducked the jab but the punch landed on my jaw and caused stars to explode in my eyesight before I hit the ground, groaning audibly as wave after wave of nauseous pain overtook my head. I groggily got to my feet as the shorter of my two enemies lunged for my legs. I stepped back and grabbed him around the shoulders before throwing him to the ground and bringing a foot down on his back. He groaned and rolled over, trying to lash out at me, but I punched him twice in the stomach then once in the face, my fist causing a hair-raising crack as it impacted with his nose. His head fell back, hitting three poles leaning against the side of the shed, causing them to fall on his head and smack me in the leg. I grimaced as one of the rakes scraped along my thigh and ripped the new pants Iorwen had bought me. Iorwen!

I swung around--looking desperately for her--only to see her lying prone on the ground, her bag lying uselessly next to her, its contents spilled all over the ground. I started for her but--somewhere behind me--a hit came down fast and hard on top of shoulder blades, causing me to sprawl on the ground, unbearable pain seeping into my back as I gasped for breath on the ground. Another blow landed on my lower back then another on my shoulder and three more repeatedly all over. I couldn't move, I was almost certain I was paralyzed. My head hit the ground and my breath came out as a painful wheezing. I could hear Iorwen utter a small whimper somewhere near my side and anger at my attacker suddenly overruled any of the pain in my body. Mustering all my strength, I pushed myself up to my elbows and looked down at the things that were laying all around my body. The stuff from Iorwen's purse. It was then that I noticed it. A blade sheathed in a thick plastic case laying near Iorwen's bag. I grabbed it without even thinking and undid the latch that was buttoned over its hilt. I heard my attacker start and dive at me to prevent my using the blade. But it was too late. I yanked the knife blade out of its sheath just as the man grabbed my arm. Not hesitating a moment, I rolled over and jammed the knife as far as I could into the man's upper chest. It went in just past his collar bone, but it was certainly enough to stop him. He looked stunned for a moment then screamed as he fell to the floor on top of me. I pushed him off and slid the blade out, ignoring the small shriek he emitted when I did so. I peered closer into his face and, to my disgust, realized who it was. Jared stared back at me in amazement as his arm fell from my own. "Y--I nev--"

He didn't get to finish what he wanted to say however, because pain caused him to pass out at that moment. Over near the door, the man I'd kneed in the groin stumbled to his feet, holding his manhood in a protective way. He groaned with every move he made and had absolutely no chance of defeating me when I punched him in the face so hard he fell backwards, the anger in me spilling over to a dangerous level. I went back to Iorwen. Picking up all the contents of her bag(including her knife), I threw it over my shoulder before bending down to scoop her up carefully in my arms. She gave another whimper as she reached for her head, apparently trying to sooth painful aches. I held her close as I intentionally stepped on the backs of the broken men lying on the ground. One of them had apparently run off because only three of them were there.

No one seemed to notice us as I made my way across the lawn, back to the car parked half a mile away near a community playground. It wasn't until I was back at the car that I realized I was in serious trouble. I couldn't drive and Iorwen obviously couldn't--not in this state. Thinking quickly, I pulled out the cell phone that I'd seen Iorwen use numerous times before. I punched several buttons before I found the one that showed a huge list of names. Using common sense, I navigated through the names before I found what I was looking for. Marian's name glowed in a heavenly blue light when I hit the big green TALK button. Hesitating only momentarily, I lifted the phone to my ear and listened in interest to see what would happen. Iorwen, who I'd placed on the back seat, groaned and threw a fist at the seat before settling again as I waited through the strangely fake-sounding rings. Three tones later, Marian's heavenly voice sounded on the other side of the line and relief swept over me.

"Hello?"

"Marian, it is me."

"Legolas? What are you--"

"You have to come find us. I do not know how, but you must. Iorwen has fallen sick and I can not drive this damn car." I hit the steering wheel in frustration at this and sighed.

"What do you mean: sick?"

"I know not. She looks rather drunk, but I am not sure what--"

"I'm coming." Marian hung up and I flipped Iorwen's cell phone shut.

In the back, Iorwen mumbled something and I climbed in beside her. Sweat was beading on her forehead and her skin looked far too pale. Worry started to eat at me and I brushed aside the wet hair that stuck to her face. Anger of a sort I'd never experience before throbbed inside of me, burning for this poor girl that was lying so helplessly in the backseat of her SUV.

"I asked you if you wished to leave…" I whispered sadly as I felt the anger disappear, leaving only an empty hollow feeling of regret.

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When Marian finally arrived at the car, it was to see Legolas asleep on the floor right under Iorwen, one of his hands holding on firmly to hers, whose arm was hanging limply off the seat. And right next to Legolas, partially concealed in Iorwen's bag, a black, deadly-looking blade laid quietly, its edge shining dully with drying blood.

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:God! I'm so sorry that took me so long to update. I've had a lot to deal with lately but I doubt any of you guys feel like hearing about it. It's almost the end of my school year, and I'm thinking my writing will become a little bit easier and more regular once school's not interfering. Have a great summer, you guys!

-MusicalCharlatan


	16. Plucking on the Stress Chord

_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter Sixteen--Plucking on the Stress Chord

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Most of America was asleep. Georgia lay in the shadow of the Earth just like the rest of that half of the world. But of the few lights that still glimmered at one in the morning, only one of them flickered because of the restlessness of an elf. Sleep hadn't come easily for Legolas since the night of the party. He'd finally seen the horrible truth of the world he was now forced to live in and now, more than ever, he wanted to go home. The words that Iorwen had said right before she went to bed were haunting him too. When she woke up from her rest after the attack at the party, she almost instantly began drilling Legolas for information. She looked horrified when she got the full story, though not surprised somehow. But when Legolas got to the part when he'd been forced to stab Jared, Iorwen almost fainted. "You what?!" she screamed and Legolas blanched.

"I did not have any choice, Iorwen. Do you not see? If I had not done that--"

"No, I mean--I know," she slowed down and looked away, "I realize you did the right thing but…aw, hell --this is like a bad dream." She groaned into her hands. "Do you realize what this means, Legolas?"

"What?" He stared at her, confusion plain on his face. "I did not kill him if that is what you are so worried ab--"

"No. This means that they're gonna be looking for you."

Legolas couldn't help but feel slightly afraid at the tone of voice in which Iorwen had said that. "Who? Who would come looking for me?"

"The police! You've just committed a serious crime! If they find--"

"Crime? I was simply defending--"

"I know, Legolas. But the fact that you didn't call the police or inform anyone else of the incident puts you in an extremely difficult and incredulous position. Not to mention, you don't have citizenship here, so if they get their hands on you there will be more than just a few questions. They won't have any birth records or information on you. They'll think you're an illegal or something. God only knows where they'll assume you came from…" she trailed off, wondering what indeed the police would think.

"But--can we not just evade them? If they know nothing about me then they can not find me, can they?"

"If anybody saw you at that party, Legolas. Then, yes, more than likely they'd be able to find you. They'll interrogate everyone there asking for an explanation. All Jared and his friends have to do is make up a story about how you attacked them and that'll be it. You have no credibility whatsoever."

_No credibility…_

Sighing in extreme irritation, he sat up and took three paces towards the large window overlooking the lawn outside a floor down.

"What are you doing?"

Legolas spun around, amazed that Iorwen had actually managed to sneak up on him. She was tired too, that much he could tell. That same multicolored blanket was pulled tight around her bold shoulder that looked strong and determined even in the relative light of the living room. Her hair was tousled and he could see deep lines under her eyes, whether from fatigue or stress he couldn't tell.

"Don't you ever sleep?" she said, lifting an eyebrow and sitting herself down in one of the chairs in front of the bar.

"You know I need little," he answered, turning away from the window and sitting back onto the couch that looked her way.

"I wish that my body worked like yours does."

Legolas smiled weakly and gave a light chuckle that he directed at the floor. "I doubt that. I have often wished to rest as you humans do. It must an extraordinary way to forget about the rest of the world when you wish to."

"Sometimes it's not so useful. Dreams can plague as well as the world can."

Glancing up sharply, Legolas closely examined her face looking for the answer to his unasked question in her eyes. "Is that why you are here?"

She turned to look at him before turning back to the bar. Her hand--he noticed--was twisting and rubbing one of the tassels on the blanket between her middle, pointer, and thumb. At first he figured she was just twiddling nervously but then he realized she had a system to her anomalous habit. She rolled it from side to side, folded it, rolled it again, then unfolded it in a repeating fashion, seemingly unaware that she was even doing it.

Knowing full well she wasn't going to answer his question anyway, he directed his attention to the tassel, lifting his hand to point at her own.

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

He jabbed his finger at her hand again and laughed slightly, "That--why do you mess with that tassel so?"

She stopped twisting it and looked down at her hand. "I don't know. I've done it ever since I was a little girl. I can't remember a time when I didn't use to do that to this blanket. Well, I don't do it to just this one. If I'm ever around a tassel or a bit of loose string I'll start twisting it. I have this one jacket that's got a long bit of fuzz on the inside of the right sleeve and I've absolutely mangled that thing."

Indeed, as Legolas looked closer he saw that the one tassel she was twisting was so tangled and destroyed from constant twisting that it hardly looked like a tassel anymore.

"That is a very odd tendency to have."

"Yeah."

For a while it was quiet. Neither of them speaking, just Iorwen twisting the poor tassel on her blanket.

"So…are you going to stay…?"

Legolas looked at her curiously, wondering what in the world she was saying. She realized he was lost to her meaning and kept going. "The authorities are going to come for you soon, you know."

Now he understood. She thought he was going to flee from these "police" people because of the stabbing. "Where would I go?"

"Most people go to Mexico."

"Where's Mexico?"

"Southern border of Texas."

"You would have me leave?"

"I don't want you arrested. I can't get you out, you know."

"I shall not flee."

"Then you're foolish."

"And you more foolish to assume I would do so."

Again, nothing but silence pervaded the room and Legolas couldn't help but feel like it was trying to strangle both of them into permanent silence. Her whispered voice came as a surprise when the quiet was finally broken, it sounded pained and more worried than any voice Legolas had ever heard. "Then…what _will _you do?"

Outside a dog began to bark raucously, a light went on, a man yelled, a car drove by, a light went off, Frodo gave a loud snore, and the computer screen flicked onto a screen saver of a multicolored pipe growing in every which direction. "You can't stay here Legolas…you know that as well as I do."

Feeling angrier than he ever had at Iorwen, he growled, "Then send me home."

"It's over, Legolas. That's never going to happen. We've tried everything we can. Just accept it."

"I DO NOT WISH TO ACCEPT IT!"

In a flash, Legolas was standing up, fury blazing in his eyes and hell at his heels. Iorwen almost fell backwards over the bar in her shock. Never before had she seen someone switch from mildness to blind rage so quickly. She hastily stood up and stood her ground. "Legolas. Look! I know it's really upsetting to hear that from someone but--"

"You can not even understand how this feels! How can you tell me to forget about it when you can not ever realize how…how….taxing and excruciating this is for me. It is like…it is akin to a tree…a tree having its roots pulled from the only earth that can provide it life!"

His throat let out a sob as his voice began to break from the overpowering wave of his emotions. Iorwen watched in pity and horror as he stumbled back over to the window and sank down beside it. "Out here--in this place--I feel like a seed that has landed on rocks. I can not grow, I can not sustain myself, I can not even cling to some extension of hope. Everything is so unfamiliar--so foreign and unwelcoming. It would not be so horrible if it were not for the fact that this place is so…lost. I can see it falling apart with my own eyes. That computer," he threw his arm madly at the computer nestled innocently in the corner by the kitchen, "has shown me everything I need to know about this world. And every time I have left this house--it was all confirmed in front of my own eyes. And you, Iorwen…you are drowning with it as well and fail to even realize it."

Completely baffled, all Iorwen could do was gape at him. Then anger at his statement began to simmer and took the controls. "What are you talking about? How could _you _know anything?! You've been here for--what?--two months?! I've busted my ass for the last six years trying to pull myself out of the ebb of that stinking mass!" All of the pent-up frustration and stress Iorwen had been storing for years began to overflow. Anger like a sort she'd never experienced, consumed her to the point where she thought she was going to explode. "Who are you to lecture me?! You who has barely spent a speck of your lifetime in this godforsaken place. It must be fun being immortal. You don't understand the haste and pain we _lower mortals_ go through to live a life worth a sentence in a school textbook. For most of us, we just hope that whatever's on our gravestone isn't so small it erodes away within a few decades. I know this world's sinking! Hell--I've known it since the day I realized my fellow humans didn't give a shit about me. So don't go telling me that I'm dying like the rest of them because…I already know I am." Falling back into the chair, Iorwen wiped away the tears that started to course down her cheeks. "I've tried and tried to stop it, but I'll fade away just like the rest of them. You don't have to tell me. I've been trying to tell myself that I'm different, but…apparently I'm so pathetic I can't even realize when men are just trying to take advantage of me."

Covering her eyes and letting out a sigh, Iorwen tried to compose herself as Legolas watched her from his place near the wall. A snore suddenly erupted from somewhere in the room and Iorwen laughed despite herself to see that Frodo had remained asleep through both of their outbursts. Resolving herself, Iorwen stood up and walked over to the broken prince leaning against the wall. Sitting down slowly, she placed herself next to him and pulled up her legs so that she could rest her arms on them. Not even looking at him, she started to speak, the hurt that had been plaguing both of them coming out in her tired and old-sounding voice.

"I'm sorry you had to go through all of this. And I'm even more sorry that I can't help you get away from it all. But…I'm thinking that maybe…you'll start to get used to this place eventually…and perhaps…this place will start to get used to you."

Looking away from the window, Legolas turned to stare at Iorwen. She seemed to have aged in the past few days. "Forgive me, Iorwen," he finally breathed, "I should never have blamed you for what has happened. I…can not even imagine how you yourself must feel after those…" Legolas struggled with a term for the bastards he'd fought a few days prior, "…men tried to hurt you. You have done all you can for me and more. Thank you. You have no obligation to keep me here. I will leave if you wish. I've no desire to bring trouble down upon you and Marian. If I need to depart, I shall."

Sighing, Iorwen let go of her blanket and took Legolas' hand into her own. Surprised but not disappointed, he watched as she turned his palm over and outlined the calluses on his hands from so many centuries of archery. She spoke so quietly that, had he not been an elf, he probably wouldn't have heard her. "I should have known," she said, regret tingeing her voice, "There have been so many things I should have known immediately. I should have known you were who you claimed to be. It's so obvious to me now, I wonder how I could have ever doubted you. You're not like other people. Not even close. Everything you do tends to amaze me. I wish…" she paused again and put his hand down, "I wish I could express to you how much everything you've done matters to me. You've saved my life twice now, and all I've managed to do for you is cage you in an apartment and use you as a bodyguard. I should have known you were the Prince of Mirkwood, just like I should have known that Jared just wanted to make sport of me… You don't have to leave, Legolas. Please…don't leave. I don't even want to think about you being gone."

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:Well, that--hopefully--is the last you guys will see of my soap-opera-writer-side. There was more drama in that one chapter than there is in an episode of "As the World Turns". I hope it hasn't scared you guys so much that you'll stop reading. Anyway, please review. SCHOOLS OUT so I'll probably start writing more these days. Happy summer, my peeps!

-MusicalCharlatan


	17. The Flicker Effect

_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter Seventeen-- The Flicker Effect

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_Iorwen POV_

Marian was sitting up on the bed when I came back in, an inquiring expression on her face. The situation was humorously so similar to the times before when I'd returned home from a date; my father sitting on the front porch just waiting for my return. I was fully expecting Marian to let out a long "soooo" as I walked back to my side of the bed, so--needless to say--it took me a moment to reply when she did indeed do just that.

"Huh? What?" I blinked, not at all feigning my surprise and bewilderment. Soooo what? What was there to tell?

"So how was your little midnight snack with our local elf?"

Feeling a little sarcastic, I replied, "It was very--how you say--snack-ish."

She threw a pillow at me which I swiftly caught and threw back, nailing her in the face. "Okay, Iorwen, seriously. I heard the yelling you know. Legolas woke me up, like, fifteen minutes ago. Funny thing though…" she grinned, "after a while…everything went kinda…quiet."

"Oh, give me a break." I scoffed and plopped onto the bed, unwrapping my blanket as I did so. "If you must know, we were having a very heated argument chock full of mixed-up emotion, anger, and death threats. Romance does not exist in such situations."

"Sure it does."

I looked at her incredulously and she relented. "Oh! Okay, so you two are kind of at ends--"

"Well…" I cut her off and she quickly backtracked.

"Well what?"

"I don't think we're really at ends--at least not anymore."

"Bwaha! So I was right!" She hopped up and down triumphantly on the bed and I quickly shushed her.

"For Heavens' sakes, Marian. Quieter. The guy's got the hearing of canine, _and_ I finally just managed to get him to go to sleep. He hasn't even laid down for the past three days."

"But you admit it. I was right! You guys are getting cozy."

"No. God, no, Marian. Would you just forget it? It was nothing. I was just calming him down. He's really upset about his home and everything. I had to convince him to stay because he thinks the police are gonna descend on us at any moment, so I wanna go to sleep. Good-night."

Without a moment's hesitation, I quickly flicked off the light on my lamp and laid down, fiercely shutting my eyes in hopes that Marian would think I was genuinely tired. No such luck.

"Oh, come ooonnn…" she drawled next to my ear, "The guy saved your life, Iorwen. Twice, if what you told me earlier was true. You can't tell me you haven't at least _thought _about it."

Silence.

"Quit acting dumb, Iorwen. You know exactly what I mean. How couldn't you? His looks are distracting sometimes. I can't even watch a movie with him cause I'd be watching him the entire time rather than the screen."

It took five minutes of complete silence before I finally heard Marian lay back down. Another five minutes went by and I could hear the sound of her sleep-mumbling. But--as she is skilled in doing--Marian's words persisted in my head even when her mouth did not. What about Legolas? Hadn't it been a fleeting thought before? God knew he was gorgeous enough to make any woman happy. Then why was I so picky?

Five infuriating minutes later, I threw off my covers and headed for the living room. And just like he said he would, Legolas was laying on the couch, open-eyed and pale in the faint moonlight from the window. I was glad he'd finally managed sleep. This past week I'd heard him messing with books and moving around even when I knew he should be resting. He didn't need much sleep, but he did need some.

Kneeling down extra quietly next to the couch, I examined his face a little bit closer. There wasn't a flaw to be seen, at least not by human standards. Long, flat eyebrows, noble arched cheekbones, beautiful pale skin, almond eyes that seemed to flicker between blue and violet, and a long thin pale mouth that seemed more for poetry and less for prose. The words were out of my mouth before I knew it. "Who are you?"

To my surprise, he did not wake. Acting on impulse yet again, I reached out and lightly traced--with the tips of my fingers--the wondrous softness of such outlandish skin. Touching him was like touching a thought, a beautiful idea. For wasn't that what he was? A piece of a genius man's imagination? A strand of a creative masterpiece made real by someone's writing?

"You're a mirage."

Any minute now this figment of my imagination would disappear and I would only be left with what I thought was a glorious yet horrific dream.

_.:flicker:._

Wow. My imagination really _was_ working overtime. '

_Did he just… _

In the span of a nano second, Legolas seemed to disappear and then reappear.

_.:flicker:._

His visage was blurring now, slowly fading away.

_.:flicker:._

"Holy--" panic seized me as my hand came into contact with absolutely nothing. "No." Acting dumber than I ever had before, I grabbed the pillow he'd been laying on and looked under it like some stupid cartoon character. "Legolas? Legolas! Where are you!?"

Oh God, did this mean--?

I swung around, fully expecting to see a vacant air mattress, but Frodo was still there, writing in the air with his finger and mumbling.

"Legolas? Legolas? Where the hell are you? This isn't funny. You better not be using your crazy elf powers to freak me out. Ow! Shit!" I grabbed my arm. It felt like I'd just gotten a static shock. I began to examine my arm, only to jump from another shock to my opposite arm. "What the--"

Fiery pricks began erupting all over my chest, feeling like as though they were pulling me somewhere. Every little shock seemed to be pulling me in opposite directions. I wriggled in irritation and discomfort and began rubbing my arms in an effort to comfort myself when I noticed it. I was fading.

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:Yes, it's short, I know. Don't go givin' me any grief. It **HAS** to end here. Absolutely has to. Okay. Yeah. Okay.

Man, I've been listening to Dane Cook too much. I'm starting to think and talk like him. You know, kind of clipped sentences that sound odd but are somehow funny. Anyway, I hope you guys review and tell me what ya'll think's gonna happen. I seriously want to know. It should be interesting.

-MusicalCharlatan


	18. Prince Legsarelong

_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter Seventeen-- Prince Legsarelong

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_Iorwen POV_

I wouldn't say I panicked per say; I actually just started to dance around like a chicken with its head cut off, screeching Marian's name, and shaking my arms like I do when they fall asleep from lack of use. Inside the bedroom I heard the sound of Marian falling off the bed in her haste to see what was happening. The door flew open and I saw her emerge looking bewildered and scared. "Iorwen! What the He--"

She stopped when she got sight of me and my quickly disappearing body.

"Iorwen!!" Sprinting towards me, Marian grabbed me by the shoulders. "What's going on? Why are you--?"

"Marian! No!"

Blackness enveloped me and I couldn't see Marian anymore. My head was buzzing, and I couldn't feel the rest of my body. I knew that my eyes were open but all I could see was blackness. I was so terrified at this point that I wanted to sob. Marian was gone, my body was fading away, Legolas had disappeared, and I had absolutely NO idea what was going on or what was going to happen to me. For several excruciating minutes I hung in space, my mind moving at a million miles per hour but not being able to feel the rest of my body. I couldn't even tell if I had limbs anymore. There wasn't the touch of hair on my face and shoulders nor the whisper of breath through my lips. Then suddenly--without any warning--a crack sounded out like a sonic boom and I could feel my body again. The world spiraled, my heart raced, my stomach heaved, and air hit my feet like as though I'd just jumped feet-first into some new atmosphere.

For a moment there wasn't a sound. Not a single hum reverberated in my ears as I became aware that I was laying on the ground. Then I heard it. My breath was only a slight purr in the cold air, but it was enough to reclaim my hope and full consciousness. Gasping and coughing, I put my hands palm-down on the ground and pushed up. I instantly realized that I was very wet. Sitting up, I glanced around in complete astonishment at what appeared to be a marsh. Everywhere I looked, shallow puddles of green, swampy water lay stagnant. Near the horizon I could make out a thin line of trees past a vast mountain of craggy rock that jutted sharply into the cloudy, overcast sky. Gnats buzzed annoyingly all around my head and I swatted at them in irritation. Standing up, I did a 360, trying my best to spot Legolas. Maybe he'd come to the same place as I had…

Cupping my hands, I called out in a shaky voice that sounded weak even in my own ears. "Legolas!! Where are you!? Legolas! Please come out! Find me! Legolas!"

Far off in the distance I heard the echo bounce off the face of the rocks and my heart plummeted like a rock into a well. I was so lost. And Legolas was no where in sight. For two minutes straight I spat out every cuss word I knew and a few I'd made up just for the heck of it. Trying to shake off the murky water, I flapped my arms and shook my legs; looking very much like a wet bird trying to dry its feathers. I even had to shake out my blanket which I had unwittingly brought with me. After I'd cleaned myself off as best I could, I decided it would be a good idea to find a drier piece of ground. The swamp--obviously--was quite foul-smelling and humid. And the driest portion of it that I could find was just a small square of dry ground that split off into small veins of dry ground that wound through the swamp like snot from a runny nose.

"Man, what I wouldn't do for a personal fan right now." I grumbled, pulling at my damp, sodden clothing.

"I am not exactly certain what that is, but I doubt it would help in this place."

I nearly jumped out my skin as Legolas lightly stepped along the thin stretch of a dirt trail towards me. He was wearing a huge smile I noticed and he also didn't appear to be anywhere near as dirty as I was.

"What are _you_ so happy about? Glad that you didn't land directly in a pond, eh?" I scowled at him and sulkily tried to straighten out my foul pajamas, fully aware of the fact that I looked like a drowned sewer rat.

"You do not understand, do you?" He chuckled in mirth and delight before hugging me and spinning me around like a discus.

"What--blaghk!" I squirmed as he twirled me, still irritated that I didn't know what he was so happy about.

"I am home, Iorwen! I am finally back! We are in Nindalf! Directly next to the mouths of the Entwash that run through the land of the Horselords! Well, actually it is directly next to the border…but it matters not! I am now back in my own land!"

At this he set me down and started chattering off in that weird elvish language of his. As he continued to praise the Valar in every elvish prayer he knew, I turned away and sat down heavily on the trail. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a live wire was hissing and spitting sparks. I was in Middle Earth. I was in…

"Oh, my God." I whispered miserably, knowing full well what this meant. "I'm stuck here. I'll never see my own world again, will I?"

Behind me I heard Legolas quickly stop jabbering in elvish when he heard me. "I'm just like you were now…" My voice shook and I feared I would start crying. Why did I suddenly feel this way? Deep inside I knew…I wasn't going back. This wouldn't be the same.

"Iorwen…?" Legolas sat down next to me, looking sympathetic.

I wanted to slap the pity right off his face, but I only sighed and looked away. "Do I miss it?" I questioned myself, trying my best to think of what I would miss back in my world. I would miss Marian, I would miss my home, and I would miss…my family? No. No, I would not. Dad was a vegetable now and it only hurt me to see him. He was broken by physical limitations and living out his life in a nursing home. He didn't even recognize me when I visited him. Mom was dead and Sonya… Well, Sonya killed herself long ago without actually physically doing so. She started getting into drugs in her teenage years, a mistake that would cost her the rest of her life. Now she was in D-TOX. And she was only a shell of her former self. When I tried to visit her on her 20th birthday she spat on me and told me that it was all my fault she was there. Sonya genuinely thought that I was the reason she'd lost everything. She tried to prove her theory with an old story of sisterly abuse of when I was fifteen and she was only twelve.

It had been late in the day when I'd been preparing to meet up with my friends and go to the movies. Sonya had wanted to come and I told her no. After I'd gone, she continued to simmer and walked on into town on her own. That was when she met Jimmy. Jimmy was the type of boy mothers can sense a mile away. And thus caused them to shove their daughters behind their skirts quicker than a snap. He was the local "bad boy". A veritable, full-frontal, stereotypical terror of the town. He smoked on the corners, sold pot in the abandoned warehouse, and took pride in the fact that he was the worst of all the teenagers in Etoile High. And Sonya met him in the most vulnerable point of her life. She was so distraught from my denial that she actually confided in Mr. Wrong and ended up dating him. Predictably, Sonya ended up becoming Jimmy's reflection of the opposite sex. He destroyed her life from the inside out by introducing her to drugs, sex, and the night life. And I--her own sister--had been the cause of it. The knowledge that I'd caused Sonya's life to plummet had caused me inexorable guilt. I wallowed in fault for a full year before Sonya did something that erased all my self-doubt. She tried to kill our father. And I'm not talking about the "put him out of his misery" type of murder; I'm saying she tried to stab him to death with a fork from the nursing home cafeteria. She absolutely lost it on one of her allowed visits to the nursing home and attacked our dad when he was laying in his bed. From that moment on I decided that I wanted nothing more to do with my family. I couldn't stand looking at the shell that was my father and my sister wasn't even my sister anymore. The only family I had anymore were my grandparents. I would miss them. I would miss them so damn much.

I would miss the life I could have had.

"Iorwen." I blinked and turned to look at the curious elf. "Will you be alright?"

Such a simple question and yet I felt like I couldn't even find the words to answer it. Would I be alright?

I bit my lip and nodded dumbly. "Yeah…I'll be fine."

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As it turns out, Legolas and I had managed to land ourselves in one of the most undesirable locations of Middle Earth aside from Mordor. I guess you could compare it to going on vacation in the middle of Antarctica. There aren't a whole lot of tours going on there. That's how it was with Nindalf. And mostly due to the fact that it was located under the Dead Marshes; another no-no. Legolas informed me that Nindalf wasn't so bad when you were near the Entwash, but --as luck would have it--we'd landed directly on the northeastern portion of it directly next to the Dead Marshes.

If I had any fears of getting lost or starving in the wilderness, Legolas quickly abolished them. His extraordinary Elvin memory allowed him to conjure up the entire map of Middle Earth inside his head in a millisecond. Within minutes he'd devised a plan to get us out of the marshes so that we were heading on a direct course for his home in Mirkwood. Legolas told me beforehand that we couldn't stay long in the marshes so we were soon marching north towards the Falls of Rauros.

"It may be quite a feat to get past the falls. It is too arduous to climb and I've no wish to go around it through Emyn Muil but we really haven't any choice. Do not worry though," he said quickly, glancing back at me as we worked our way over the path, "I shall get us through." He turned back to the trail but a moment later I could hear him mumbling in elvish like he always did when he didn't want to admit something to me.

"We _will_ be able to get food…right?" I questioned in growing worry, not at all liking the sound of his voice.

"Oh, yes. Indeed. I can find food easily enough. But that is not what I'm worried about… You see, after the Ring was destroyed the orcs fled. Some returned to the mountains. I have also heard that many took up residence in… Never mind. It is nothing to worry over. We will be fine. I know this land well. I have crossed it once before, and that is all the experience I need."

I didn't need telling twice. Legolas had my full vote of confidence. For the first time since I'd known him, he seemed to be at the top of his game--really living in his element. Being back in his homeland had restored a vast amount of confidence in him and also made him much livelier and happier than I'd ever seen him before. He didn't seem to mind that we were trudging through a foul marsh full of gnats. (Well, **I** was trudging. Mr. Lightfoot didn't even make an imprint with his foot in the mud.) In fact, he seemed to have that slight smile stamped on his face permanently. So, while he was reveling in mental joy, I took the time to go over my LotR history.

Nindalf? Well, that didn't ring a single damn bell. Then how about the Falls of Rauros? Now that…that sounded familiar. It was near one of the Elvin dwellings--of that I was pretty certain. Lothlorien! That was it! The Falls were part of the river coming out of Lorien! I remembered because that was where they sent Boro…

"Oh." I glanced at Legolas, silently wondering whether it would be a touchy subject to bring up the death of his former comrade. Well, if there was anytime to talk about his harsh travel with the Fellowship then now was the time, right?

"'ey, Legolas." I ventured tentatively.

"Yes?"

"The Falls of Rauros…isn't that where Boromir died?"

I'm surprised his neck didn't snap, his head spun around so quickly to look at me. At first I thought he'd be mad, but his features quickly softened and he sighed. "Actually, he was slain at Amon Hen. Aragorn, Gimli, and I gave him a soldiers' burial at the Falls."

"What was it like?"

Legolas blinked, "What was what like?"

I paused, wondering if I was stepping on still-tender ground. "Being…being in the Fellowship? How did it feel to know that you were apart of something so huge? I mean, when I read the books I tried to imagine over and over what it must have been like. I imagined all the places and tried to think of what each character would look like and just how they would act…"

Legolas seemed interested. "What did you think of me?"

That startled me and I don't know why. I really should have expected it, you know. But for some reason, it didn't even cross my mind that he'd want to know what my original impression of him was from the books. "Wha--I mean…umm…I really don't remember."

"Do not jest," he said playfully, slowing down so he could walk beside me, "I am certain you must have made some type of conclusion about my character when you read about me…"

Okay, here comes the confession. I'd tried not to think about it, but not there was no avoiding it. When I read the books…Legolas irritated me more than any other character. And you wanna know why? Because he was so quiet, but then--when he did speak--it was just riddles or some irritating tripe about being careful--blah-dee-blah--dee-blah. He also sang way too much. In fact, I skipped the entire scene at the river before Lorien just because Legolas started to sing. It literally pissed me off. I was so tired of all the singing.

As this revelation hit me full-force, I began to think up a good substitute. "Your character in the books? Hmm….well, uh…yeah, I liked you. Yeah, you were real…quirky and…and brave. I liked all the songs you sang. Mmhmm."

Legolas stared at me for a long time before he said, "Quirky?"

"Uhhh…yes."

"What does that mean?"

"It means, like, witty….funny."

"Really?"

"Really."

"You are lying."

"No, I'm not." I gasped out. Inside I already knew that it had been a retarded idea to lie to him. The guy could sniff out a lie quicker than a hound dog could sniff out a coon.

"You hated me."

"Well…no, not…really."

"Why?"

I groaned and mentally slapped myself. I knew I shouldn't have… Wait a second!

"Hey! You never answered _my _question first!"

He stopped and pointed at the face of rocks that resembled crooked teeth. "Actually, I think it would be a better idea for us both to simply concentrate on getting close to the cliffs. We need to get as far out of these marshlands as possible."

I grumbled and folded my arms huffily. "You just don't want to answer."

Pretending he hadn't heard me, the elf-prince turned, still shaking his head, and began walking even faster than he had before for Emyn Muil. It didn't take long for me to remember that I was out of shape and unhealthy. Ten minutes into our trek and I was already beginning to feel the strain on my legs and a slight cramp was creeping into my ribs. "Hey, Prince Legsarelong! Hows about we slow the pace down just a bit? I'm not as in-shape as I used to be in High School."

Grinning, the content elf began to slow down a bit, purposely walking with a fake limp as he got closer to me. "You are already beginning to tire, my lady? I am afraid I might have to leave you in the river when we reach it. I have no time to wait for a decrepit old woman with a broken hip to catch up."

"Haha." I laughed sarcastically, "Think you're real funny, don't ya?"

"No. I am not attempting to be humorous in any way, actually."

"Oh, really?"

"I am simply not used to dragging a boulder behind me on my journeys."

We kept this little game of oral jabbing up for a long time. It caused me to forget entirely about the tiring act of walking through the swamp and before I knew it Legolas was stopping and pointing at the rock yet again. "We are much closer now. So, seeing as how you are already weary," he laughed quietly and I scowled, "we shall go ahead and camp here for this night."

I looked around, only a wee bit more pleased with what I saw. It was drier than the area we'd first arrived in, I was glad to see. Small, sparse shrubs had started to appear and there were even a few boulders and rocks dotting the landscape now.

"Near the rocks," I heard Legolas say near my ear and I jumped, startled and surprised that he was so close.

"It's drier near the rocks," he took my shoulder and turned me towards a small patch of land almost entirely circled by the said stones. "We will stay there. I shall find some sustenance and hopefully some kindling for fire. It will start to get colder as night comes."

He was right. Darkness fell, bringing with it a thick blanket of icy air that it laid across the valley like a fog. I instantly became very glad of my blanket (it was now quite dry) and wrapped it tight about me despite the smell it reeked of from the marsh. Its presence was a great consolation. It was now the only connection I had to my old world aside from the clothes I was wearing and the memories I had. Legolas returned quickly with about a dozen pitiful sticks he had picked up that were actually dry and capable of making fire and a small dead creature that looked conspicuously like a rat.

"What is that?" I asked dubiously, hoping that what he was holding wasn't supposed to be dinner.

"Sustenance," he answered vaguely, immediately setting about building a fire.

He got a small flame going quickly in the midst of the small circle of rocks and we huddled about it, warming our hands and glancing at the ominous silhouette of Emyn Muil. In my mind, a million questions were buzzing--some for Legolas and some for myself.

A little while later and Legolas had successfully cooked the anomalous swamp creature to a degree that assured me I was not going to become ridden with parasites, and we ate quickly. I was starving and the unfortunate little meal was good but hardly enough to satiate me. However, it wasn't long before fatigue and stress (not to mention a type of jet-lag on steroids) quickly overcame me, and I curled myself up in a ball on the ground. As I was nearing sleep, a realization hit my drowsy and delirious mind, not fully comprehensible, but urgent enough to where I forced myself to halfway open my eyes.

"'ey….hey…" I drawled out almost drunkenly, "You know…Marian and Frodo…maybe…perhaps…" I yawned, "….they could be….here…"

Legolas nodded and bit his lip, "It is a possibility. We shall have to look for signs of them."

"Yeah, sure. Oh, and Legolas…" I closed my eyes, "you can share…my…blanket if…if you want to."

Legolas couldn't help but smile as Iorwen unfurled part of her blanket for him just before drifting off. She'd sounded so much like a child when she'd said that. His smile grew when he realized that her fingers were still closed tightly about the ugly tassel on her blanket. Was it odd that he wanted to curl up right beside her right now even though he was not yet tired? Maybe…maybe not.

_I may take your offer, Iorwen._

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:Wow. I'm actually kinda spittin' these things out, aren't I? Go me. I haven't done this since I started the dang story. Hmmm… Anyway, please review. I appreciate them. Mucho Amor!

-MusicalCharlatan


	19. Silhouettes

_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter Nineteen--Silhouettes

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_Legolas POV_

"You are far harder to please than the rest of your company, Legolas of Greenwood."

At this voice, I jerked awake, or at least to what I thought was awake. Iorwen was still laying next to me, breathing deeply and occasionally moving her legs to get more comfortable. I frantically searched for the owner of the voice but could see nothing. Finally, I stood up and looked behind me.

If I had had a bow I would have been stringing it at this point.

"Who are you?" I called out. Feeling dread at the sight of a black silhouette standing in the marsh. I say standing, but as I looked, I realized that the figure was in fact _hovering _over the marshland.

Internally, I berated myself for not having stayed up to keep watch. It was foolish of me to have accepted Iorwen's offer so quickly.

"There is no reason for you to rebuke yourself, little prince." Startled, I blinked at the far-off figure. Had he just read my own thoughts? "There is very little trouble in these parts. And as you will come to see, I am not trouble."

Something in my mind clicked and I narrowed my eyes on the silhouette, trying my best to see it clearer. "Wait. I have heard you somewhere once before. I am sure of it."

The silhouette chuckled slightly and seemed to take a step forward before it stopped yet again. "Indeed, young prince, you may have. But I've no time for reintroductions. I was sent here with a message. Do you wish to hear it?"

"A message? From whom?" I inquired, narrowing my eyes.

"I believe we've covered that ground before. And, truthfully, it matters little. Do you wish to hear what I have to say."

I nodded, uncertain whether or not I could trust this person but quite certain that I wanted to hear what he had to say.

"You have been pushing the hand for quite some time, young one," I blanched, I hadn't been called 'young' for over 2,000 years, "but your lords have decided to keep their word. They have revised their original plan and now you are back where you originally wished to be. However, I think you shall come to find that everything is not quite the same as when you left it. Be careful of your feet yet be open to new things that may begin to present themselves. Do not follow the path as closely as you would. Heed the warnings of the wanton wind and trust not too much to your second thoughts. Guard jealously that which you care for. In time, you shall understand all that was said here today."

I could only stare and wonder at the things that had been said by this whispery shadow that had so boldly woken me. Then, suddenly, the silhouette bowed its head and held up a long black arm, palm upward holding something. "A gift sent from your lords. To make your happiness complete, you may desire a token such as this. For many it hath doomed and may it hath saved. Its essence does already run strong in your Elvin veins. Only open it when you are certain of what it contains."

And with that he was gone. For a moment, I decided that I had only been seeing shadows and my mind had conjured up such an odd conversation, but then I glanced downward and spied a small plain wooden box sitting in the basin of my palm. I couldn't even remember lifting my arm to take the box…

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_Iorwen POV_

I woke up with a horrible crick in my neck. Sleeping on the ground had done nothing for my spinal chord and I instantly regretted waking up. Placing my hand on my chin, I popped my neck both ways and tried to sit up. That's when I noticed that Legolas was nowhere in sight.

As of lately, realizations such as this were causing me a great amount of fear and just a small dose of panic. Without that elf I was completely doomed. Glancing down at my blanket, I placed a hand on the ground next to me. It was still partially warm. I blushed a little, remembering what I'd said to the elf prince before I'd fallen asleep. I decided that when I'm tired I really shouldn't speak.

I glanced back at the ground and furrowed my brow. If it was still slightly warm then he couldn't have been gone long. Standing up shakily, I rolled up my blanket and placed it on top of one of the boulders so that it wouldn't get any more dirty than it already was. I looked around, glaring at the horizon. If he disappeared one more time…

"'Quel amrun." (good morning)

"Holy shi--" I spun around, nearly tripping over my own feet in my haste. Realizing it was Legolas, I sighed heavily in relief and rested my hands on my knees.

"Good Lord, Legolas. I really wish you'd stop doing stuff like that. Next time you scare me I swear I'm gonna accidentally hurt your pretty face."

He smirked. "I would really love to see you try."

I stood up straight and gave him my 'you didn't just say that' face. "Excuse me? Contrary to popular belief, I _am _capable of taking care of myself."

Legolas only smiled at me and walked past me to stomp out the low-burning embers of our small fire. Ignoring his obvious doubt, I picked up my blanket and stared at Legolas expectantly as he scattered the stones we'd used to contain the fire and spread the ash into the marsh. My curiosity piqued, "Why are you doing that?"

"I would rather not risk the chance of a foe happening upon our campsite. I have never trusted this place. It is too close to Mordor."

At this he and I both looked up to gaze upon the black rocks that stabbed the sky. "Even in defeat…that place speaks of evil. It will be a long age before nature finally cleanses away the filth left by such evil." As I looked at the mountains, an involuntarily shudder ran through my body. Evil, indeed.

"Legolas…" I paused, wondering whether to continue and he looked up to gaze at me in small wonder, waiting for my question, "When you fought at the gates of Mordor…did you--were you…well, did you feel…resigned to a fate you didn't think you could stop?"

Legolas stood up, still holding one of the stones in his hand limply, "What do you mean?"

"I mean…I'm sure you thought you were going to die--so…were you…okay with that?"

I'd been staring at Mordor as I spoke but at this last word I turned to stare into his insanely deep green-blue eyes. His face looked completely impassive but in the depths of his irises I could see the turmoil within him. He dropped the rock slowly and closed his eyes with a sigh before reopening them slowly. "Why do you ask?"

Glancing down at the rock, I gulped and brought my eyes back up to his, "Well, I was just thinking that this change…this…_switch_ to a totally new world--it must be my fate…"

"Are you saying you feel doomed to this place?" Legolas questioned, looking disturbed at my statement.

I shook my head furiously and rubbed my neck. "No, but…this was not the life I would have chosen had I been asked. Or at least…I don't think so. So, I'm trying to decide whether or not I should give up all hope of returning."

Exhaling slowly, Legolas walked over to my side and directed me back onto our path out of the marsh. "First, let us leave this place and I shall answer your question as we walk."

As the sun's gleaming head slowly rose over the crown of trees in the east, we walked. Legolas ran his long fingers through his flaxen hair, seemingly working up to his answer. "When my comrades and I went to the gates of Mordor it was known by all that it was a last stand--an effort to help give time to our only hope. I'd resigned myself to death a long time before the War of the Ring ever came about. You see, my family and my kingdom have always been under threat of attack by the orcs living at our border in the stronghold of Dol Goldur. I was participating in patrols to protect our borders before I even knew what a real orc looked like. I remember quite vividly an experience I had with my patrol leader one night. It was my first time on a patrol and we had stopped to wait for our scouts to return. I was feeling more cowardly by the minute and I sat down, just contemplating death and whether or not I would ever see my thousandth winter. My commanding officer--a good friend of mine now named Beinion--came over to me. He took one look at my face and took a place next to me. He told me--after I had voiced my worries--that the sooner I realized I was already dead, the sooner I would be able to fully function as a soldier."

I blinked, amazed that someone would completely take away hope from a young elf when he was feeling weak. "What did you say to him?"

"I said nothing. I nodded and when we met the enemy later on the next day I successfully killed four orcs without their group realizing they were even gone."

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:I know this is a crappy chapter and all but it was all I could get out right now and there's some pretty vital stuff in it. Anyway, I suggest that all of you go watch the Band of Brothers series right now because it will rock your freaking face off. That's all.

-MusicalCharlatan


	20. The Beginning of Their Troubles

_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter Twenty-- The Beginning of Their Troubles

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_Iorwen POV_

Emyn Muil, I discovered, was a good bit more terrifying close up. Its craggy rocks looked exactly like the rotten teeth of a foul beggar. But don't get me wrong--I was quite glad to be out of the stinking marshlands. Man, was I glad. Sleeping on damp soil, slipping into murky water, swatting at gnats, and coping with a smell that closely resembled that of a rotting deer carcass was not exactly enjoyable.

However, our arrival at the Falls of Rauros showed me just what I was going to have to deal with on this little expedition. Never before had I gone on such a long journey on foot _and _in such wild country. Just looking at the angry, loud waters cascading down the rocks like a freight train caused my stomach to dance. We'd been skirting Emyn Muil for hours just to get nearer to the river that the falls created. But now as I looked about I couldn't see anything but cliff face, skimpy trees, and boulders the size of small trucks. "So, Legolas…where exactly are we supposed to be going to get past the falls?"

Looking slightly nonplussed, the elf prince blatantly ignored my question and began to climb a fairly large stack of boulders that would allow him to get a better view of the land. I watched in amazement as he scaled the small mountain in a short minute.

Who knew he was so good at climbing? I stared at the rocks he'd just ascended doubtfully before I began to follow…albeit slowly. He paid no attention to me as I began the difficult ascent, using all my upper body strength to haul myself onto the boulders. As I was nearing the top, I saw--to my dismay--Legolas coming back down, skillfully hopping down the rocks with ease. Cursing loudly, I again followed; this time intent on giving him a piece of my mind when I got my hands on him. But as I dropped to the ground I saw that he again had disappeared. But, unlike his other recent departures, I quickly spotted him near the river, bending low and examining something on the ground. Grumbling in irritation, I stomped over to his location. He was eying a great rift that had torn through the river and continued right up into the dangerous land of Emyn Muil. I realized something was going on when he began to run his hand along the crack as though worried.

"What's the matter?" I asked unsurely, bending down beside him to get a better look at the crack.

He sighed and retrieved his hand without looking up. "It appears that--upon the disposal of the ring--the earthquakes that broke apart Mordor and the surrounding land found a fault under this river. Because of the break--the path that I took many years ago on a personal mission is now gone--buried under the ground. Were shall have to climb the lower part of the cliff face just east of here."

He looked back where we'd come from then turned back to me. This sudden movement abruptly made us realize how close we were over the rift. His face almost touched mine when he turned back around and I took an unsteady step backwards, still crouching near the ground. His eyes blinked quickly and widened. I did likewise, trying my best not to look at his lips. For what seemed like an eternity we only stared at each other, neither one brave enough to move either forward or backward. Then, in a sudden burst of fear, I took another step back--this time tripping because of my awkward position and landing on my butt.

This was embarrassment at its finest.

Cheeks burning red like mini-beacons, I stumbled up as he too stood. "Are you all right?" He asked, lightly smirking at my clumsy landing.

I blushed harder. "Y-yeah. I'm fine." I said quickly, looking away so he couldn't see my humiliation.

"Well, we should begin our climb as early as possible. It should not take too long, but I do not want darkness chasing us as we reach the top."

I nodded swiftly, only wishing to forget the moment from earlier. "Sure."

Still appearing amused, Legolas turned and began heading back towards the short overhang closer to the marshlands. Feeling stupider than I had in a long time, I hurried after him, clumsily trying to pick out places on the ground that would be less painful to my bare feet.

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_Legolas POV_

"Just grab that small ledge over your left hand, Iorwen."

"I can't reach it. I'll fall--I just know it."

Iorwen--of course--had completely failed to mention to me that she was terrified of heights before trying to head up the cliff face ahead of me. I tried vainly to help her as she clung to the cliff, scared as a kitten and as helpless as one, too. I attempted to avoid looking up at her, seeing as how all I could see when I looked up were her legs and her rather prominent rear. Awkward and irritated, I started to beat my head lightly against the rock I was holding on to, wishing that she would have told me something beforehand. "Please, Iorwen, I can not help you. This overhang is not very high anyway. The highest it could possibly be is 25 feet. Please, just try to reach the next ledge. I am underneath you to help if you start to fall."

"Oh, yeah," she replied, completely unimpressed, "that way--when I fall--I take you with me."

However, despite her catty remark, she started to stretch towards the ledge, standing on her toes to grab it before latching onto another ledge not far from it. She let out a breath of relief before hauling her body up onto a more substantial piece of rock. I followed easily, taking the same route as she had. We scaled the rest of the rock easily enough. She only paused on one more area, but we did eventually to get reach the top. When I'd finally pulled myself up onto the rocky land that had broken off to form the cliff, I saw Iorwen sitting on the ground a few feet away, her face buried in her hands, apparently relieved she'd made it up.

"Will you be okay?" I asked her, feeling slightly sorry over her condition. It was never fun to face ones' fears.

She nodded slowly and looked up, her face grim and her eyes large and white. "Damn earthquake," was all she said before standing up.

I chuckled and watched in curiosity as she proceeded to dust herself off and attempt to pull off a piece of dirt that had matted itself into her shirt. It was at this time that I noticed her shirt was extremely thin and haggard from traipsing through the marshlands and rather revealing. My eyes immediately started to drift downward and I quickly ripped them away before I embarrassed myself. _You've been around those human men too long. _

I busied myself trying to look at anything and everything other than her as she continued to yank on the shirt, not realizing it was revealing a little more of her chest than was decent. Feeling sufficiently dirty, I turned away and was shocked when I saw one of the most gorgeous sunsets I'd ever laid eyes on. The sky was painted in orange, red, yellow, and a deep pink that softened the clouds to where they appeared to be nothing more than cotton balls. The colors smeared the sky so impressively that it made Iorwen gasp when she turned around. I gazed at with an appreciation that was swelled with pride for my homeland. Even in the darkest recesses of its lands, beauty still prevailed. The sunset was directly over the mountains of Mordor.

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They made camp two hours later when Iorwen finally worked up the nerve to inform Legolas that she was getting very tired and her feet were aching horribly. They settled themselves inside a ring of rocks that were tall enough to shield a person from a little rain if they leaned against it closely enough. Haggard and exhausted, Iorwen sat down on the ground in the middle and lifted her left foot onto her right leg and examined the bottom of her foot. She was just as surprised as Legolas was to see that the balls of her feet and the soft area underneath her toes had begun to bleed. Both feet were completely caked in mud and rocks had left rips in the hard skin of her heels. Feeling absolutely wretched, Legolas quickly moved next to her and began to rip the long fabric on the bottom half of his shirt, pulling it into strips before he began to wrap it around her feet, only leaving her toes exposed when he was done. Iorwen thought about telling him not to rip off the fabric but she didn't think she'd be able to keep up this journey if her feet were destroyed. Then she thought of something.

"Hey, wait…aren't you shoeless too?" She asked, staring curiously down at Legolas bare feet.

He blinked in confusion before looking down at his feet. He lifted one and Iorwen was amazed to see that they were only dirty from the mud in the marshes. "We elves do not often wear shoes. In Mirkwood, we climb trees completely barefoot. We use our soft boots only when we travel. In a days time, the wear will begin to show on my feet, but for now they are fine. _You _however will not be able to keep this up without shoes. The next village we happen upon--I shall have to find you something to protect your feet." He finished wrapping up her right foot, he stood and laid a scrutinizing eye on her. "I'll bet you are hungry too, are you not?" He said, seeing her rather pathetic appearance.

She couldn't lie. She was famished. Smiling rather sheepishly, Iorwen nodded. "A little…yeah."

Without hesitation, the elf was out of the circle of rocks in an instant, with the only sign of his presence being the heavy and intoxicating smell of male that he left behind.

Feeling like as though she'd just given birth to a 10 pound baby, Iorwen laid down on the ground. Her eyelids didn't put up much of a fight when she started to drift into sleep. She was so tired in fact, she barely heard the sound of scuttling feet and the thud of body. She thought it was only in her dreams.

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:Okay, so that took forever. I'm so sorry, people. I thought I'd become more regular in the summer. That obviously didn't work out. I ended up working at a snow cone stand for 3 weeks. My computer crashed and I had to salvage my files. I was away at camp for a week and, of course, I've got band practice twice every week. La vida está loca!! Anyway, this next chapter shouldn't be so difficult for me. The writers block that was positively persecuting me the other day is over with, so that's good. R & R, lovelies!

-MusicalCharlatan


	21. Shelob's Home Away From Home

_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter Twenty One-- Shelob's Home Away From Home

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"Hi there, sweetheart."

Iorwen's attention instantly ripped away from her plastic horse, Jambalaya, to the man standing in her doorway. Hopping up, the eager and imaginative 6-yr-old wrapped her arms around the legs of the man she called daddy, overjoyed to see her overworked father back from police work. "Daddy!! Daddy!" she chanted, hopping up and down.

He slowly bent down to her level before saying expectantly with a gleam in his eye. "How much do you love me?"

Without hesitation, Iorwen threw her arms wide, stretching her fingertips as far as they would go. If it were possible, the child would have dislocated her arms just to gain a millimeter more on each side. Her arms would never be long enough to show the love she held.

"This much, daddy!" She said proudly, still trying in vain to stretch her arms further.

"And you know how much I love you?"

"How much daddy?"

"This much!" Throwing open his arms, Russ enveloped his daughter in a massive hug. Giggling, Iorwen extracted herself before running back to her tiny desk near the large windows surrounding her room to grab something.

"Look! Look what I made, dad!"

Glowing in pride, she lifted up a folded piece of paper made into a pop-up book. On it was pictured a scene from one of her favorite books. A blue-tinged horse standing next to a river with his head low was copied almost exactly how it appeared in the book. Her father simply smiled at Iorwen and took the book from her before giving it a closer look. The pride in his eyes was enough to tell her he thought it was wonderful. "You've got quite the eye for art, little one," he stated, looking back at the picture, "you're going to be just like your mother."

Iorwen couldn't help but glow when she heard that. For years she'd been admiring the paintings her mother did. In their kitchen, her mother had painted a mural of a vast valley of green. On the cabinets she'd painted what appeared to be glass panels revealing their inner contents. Behind painted panels of glass, old antique glass ware, china, and pots were pictured on each cabinet, giving character to the small kitchen that was already full of it. Her mother showed Iorwen where she'd painted a mouse climbing into a short green glass, his tail high in the air like a fishing rod. In another, one of the mice was hiding behind a large crock pot. In yet another, one mouse simply sat in a corner, nibbling on a piece of cheese, looking innocently at an ornate teapot next to him. Iorwen only hoped she could one day become as magnificent an artist as her mother.

Her father rubbed one of his large, calloused thumbs along her cheek, a smile playing on his lips that made her heart swell. She watched as the smile caused wrinkles to crease by his eyes and a dimple to appear on one of his cheeks. Stormy blue eyes stared into stormy blue eyes as he whispered, "You're my little angel, Iorwen. My little angel…"

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Iorwen's eyes burst open; her body snapping up like a whip as a strangled gasp exited her lips. Panting and crying, she curled her legs up and wrapped her arms around them. Placing her head on her arms, she closed her eyes and tried to stop the downpour of tears that her dream had caused.

She'd completely forgotten that memory. She'd shoved it somewhere far away; into a place she never returned to or touched. It hurt too much. Far too much. So much that it almost didn't even make sense. What did she have to cry about? What right did she have? There were so many other people suffering so much worse. What gave her the claim to her hurt?

Angry with herself for being so weak, Iorwen quickly swiped away the tears starting to dry on her cheeks and sniffed loudly. Trying to forget her starkly vivid dream, the aching girl stood and stretched before looking around. At first, she had absolutely no idea where she was. Then reality came rushing back on her like a freight train and she almost started crying again when she realized where she was. Then another even more terrifying thought hit her.

"Legolas?" Calling out tentatively, Iorwen looked around at her feet, searching for the elf prince who had turned her world into an absolute nuthouse.

_Now where's that damned elf gone to?_ Scowling, she turned away from the small campsite and made her way unsteadily down the way she'd seen Legolas head off to earlier. She didn't see any signs of him. Nor did she see any of him having returned to the campsite. Lord knows, it probably wasn't an easy task to find food out here, but was it really necessary to be gone for as long as her dreams had allowed her to sleep? _I couldn't have slept for under 30 minutes._

Feeling a little nervous, she made her way down to a small patch of flat land that overlooked the swamps below. As she came to stand in the middle of it, she used the moonlight to her advantage and scanned her surroundings. Upon looking down, she started and jumped back a few feet.

All around her were footprints.

Most of them were no bigger than a 11-year-olds' shoe size. From what she could tell, there had to have been at least 5 of them. The prints were far too numerous to have only been a few. In the midst of the collage of footprints, Iorwen spotted one that quickly caught her attention. It had followed her path into the clearing, that much she could tell. The foot print was also a good 3 sizes bigger than hers. Glancing around, she tried to follow its path along the ground until she came to a dead end. The prints stopped and then trailed off as a large scrape on the ground. It kind of looked like someone had taken their foot and started dragging it along sideways so as to make a thick line. Furrowing her brow, Iorwen stood next to the dragging line and attempted her theory, dragging her foot sideways in a like manner. Bending down, she quickly assessed that the markings were very similar.

Heart beating a little faster than it normally did, Iorwen stood up and cast a wary eye on the path the feet markings took. It continued on until the clearing stopped and all that was left was rock. She wasn't sure how she knew it, but Iorwen knew something was wrong.

Instinct told her to stay right where she was. Worry and concern said otherwise…

If Legolas had been here, then all signs pointing to an unintended departure. But what if she was simply overreacting and Legolas was actually just having a hard time finding his way back? Caught in the middle, Iorwen glanced at the path of the footprints and the path leading back to the campsite. Making the decision in her mind, she quickly turned and headed back for the camp. If he wasn't back in thirty minutes she would follow the path as best she could. She wasn't about to make a rash decision that might cause her to lose contact with the elf and get her own self lost in Emyn Muil.

Back in the campsite, Iorwen could only curl up into the corner of two rocks and wait. Her eyes looking about her expectantly and her heart hammering dully from the lack of certainty she felt. After five minutes she was concerned but not too upset. After ten minutes, she was upset but not too worried. After fifteen minutes she was worried, but not too scared. After twenty minutes she was scared, but not too disturbed. After twenty five minutes, she was disturbed, but not too hysterical. At thirty minutes, she was bordering on hysteria and had nearly chewed her fingernails down to the skin. Standing up abruptly, she finally decided her time was up and returned to the clearing. But she found something much more terrifying that Legolas' startling disappearance.

The footprints were gone.

All of them; simply wiped away. Now shaking with unbridled fear, Iorwen turned and glanced back at the campsite. She was sorely tempted to simply curl up in a ball and wait for morning to come to look for the elf prince, but deep down she knew that was a positively wretched, cowardly, hideous thing to do. Without another moment of hesitation, she turned to where she previously remembered the footprints being and set off along the pathetic, hardly recognizable trail. There was very little that showed her where to go. She watched for the small signs: rocks pushed out of the way by feet, tramped down tufts of grass that barely had a chance, and--occasionally--a smear of something oily and positively rank on the face of the rocks about the trail. It was mostly the smell that showed her where to go. That, and a rather unnerving sense that kept tugging her onward. Legolas' handsome Elvin face kept springing into her mind as she stumbled along the rocks clumsily. It was this image that made her even more determined to continue on. That warm yet icy gaze he'd laid on her a number of occasions kept beckoning her further. Each time it had made her skin tremble and her breathing hitch. She was certain he didn't realize the affect that look had on her. He usually did it when he was confused about something she'd said or done.

She was still picturing him in her mind when the trail suddenly ended. She wasn't sure how she knew it had, but one glance down and her mind quickly confirmed her original thought. Leading deep into mass of rock and dirt, a tunnel--almost undoubtedly made by sentient hands--broke the surface and twisted into the terrifying unknown. Its entrance was so unfathomably dark and treacherous, Iorwen almost thought for a moment that she must have gone blind. If it had not been for the moon's reassuring light, she would have believed it to be true. _I have to go in. It's all for Legolas. I wouldn't do this if I didn't truly believe he was somewhere down in that black hole. You owe me so much, elf boy._

Shutting her eyes tight for a moment, Iorwen reopened them to stare into the darkness of the tunnel before making her way into its depths. As soon as she touched the darkness, a feeling of dread and horror began to crawl up her spine. The air was thick and almost soupy feeling; a relization that made her skin positively crawl in disgust.

Shoving down her revulsion, Iorwen pushed herself further into the depths, wishing that she had a flashlight or even a single match to spare. And it seemed the Valar weren't completely against her, for within only a minute of this sentiment, a flickering red -orange light broke the darkness and ahead she spied a sconce holding a torch. A few yards down from it, another sconce was placed on the opposite wall and so continued down the tunnel. She nearly cried in relief at the sight of the life-giving light. Progressing much quicker now, Iorwen continued along the path until--without warning--a particularly foul draft of air clogged her senses and nearly made her gag. The sudden need to vomit seized her stomach and she nearly dry-heaved. Covering her mouth and shutting her eyes to blink back an onslaught of bitter tears, she tried her best to ignore the smell and carried on.

It wasn't long until she discovered the source of the smell.

Piled haphazardly along an extended wall, severed heads of what she was positively certain had to be orcs were left to rot. Some were nearly bleached white from age, others had only bits of sticky flesh clinging to them, and there were still others that were so fresh blood oozed onto the barren soil.

For a moment, Iorwen's head spun and her stomach simply couldn't take it. Placing one hand against the wall, she vomited the small amount of food laying dormant within her. She closed her eyes against the sight of the throw up so as to not become even sicker and do so again. Willing herself to go on, the dizzy human woman who hadn't seen such gore save for in the theatre, stumbled past the decaying heads as quickly as possible.

Three minutes later, another smell grabbed her by the nose, but this one wasn't nearly so bad. It smelled much more alive than the one previously. There was a distinct difference between living smells and dead smells she had decided and this smell was definitely not a dead, rotting smell.

Unable to pull her hand away from her nose and mouth, Iorwen rounded a sharp corner in the tunnel and spotted something that almost caused her to turn tail and run. Two orcs lay sleepily against the walls of the tunnel, their long droopy lips hanging open in sleep and drooling enough saliva to drown a fish. Gulping, Iorwen leaned back against the wall and shuddered. She would have to go around them, that much was certain. Mustering all the will power she possessed, Iorwen glanced around the corner of the tunnel and took a hesitant step forward…and instantly kicked a helmet that she hadn't noticed lying next to the wall.

Shamelessly, the crude helmet clattered and rolled twice before coming to an abrupt stop. Iorwen instantly whirled back against her hiding place along the wall and tried to turn off her breathing. For a few moments, all she could do was stay there, practically glued to the wall, her breaths so few and far between she was almost on the verge of passing out. After a minute of utter terror, she finally allowed herself to open her eyes and hesitantly glance around the wall. Relief seeped through her. Still asleep…

She leaned back against the wall momentarily before comprehension grabbed her. Whirling around, she stared down the tunnel again at where the guards were, or rather…_the _guard.

Dreading what she might see, Iorwen turned around slowly to stare into the feline-like, yellow eyes of one of the orc guards. "You gottin yerself lost, pretty?"

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Legolas opened his eyes painfully and stared out blearily from underneath weighted eyelids. At first, all his aching eyes could make out were misshapen shadows and then fairy-tale like images that made him blink. Somewhere in his mind, he could hear the rough chuckle of some coarse being interrupt his thoughts and practically scratch the chalkboard of his mind with long fingernails. "'ey, the elf's woken up."

A coarse hand snatched his chin and lifted it until he was staring uncertainly into the eyes of a rather massive orc with a nose so sharp it looked like it could impale a piece of paper. Leering at him, the foul creature gave a throaty chuckle before dropping his chin, causing Legolas' head to fall forward. He wasn't certain why, but all the strength in his entire body felt like it had been sucked out by a large hose. He couldn't quite remember what exactly it was that had led up to this rather unwelcome awakening, and he found that as he tried to search it out in his mind the answer became even more evasive.

"You reckon his Mightiness will reward us for getting' the elf, captain?" someone's whiny voice called out and the captain--who was apparently the nosy (quite literally) orc in front of him--answered gruffly.

"It ain't none of yer business knowin' whether or not his Lordship'll reward us, lard gut! An' if he does reward somebody --it's gonna be me, and certainly not the likes of a buncha maggots like yous." Thoroughly agitated, the captain spat on the ground and nudged Legolas' leg with a spiked boot. "And 'sides, his Mightiness ain't gonna be none too pleased when he finds out you lot suffered three causalities from one unarmed pointy-ear."

"Beggin' ya pardon, cap'ain Hoshnak. But won't that be on yer head and not ours?"

The captain, enraged by the speaker's statement, glared at the hapless orc who was a skinny, malnourished looking soldier holding a bow in his hands that looked like as though it had seen better days. "You fools are gonna back me up, of that I'll make sure. Udderrwise I'll take that bow o' yours, Rugart, and string it with yer own guts!"

Rugart sank back against the wall, cowering slightly at his captain's threat. Pleased with his intimidation skills, the captain turned away from Rugart and sized up another orc that was being bandaged by what Legolas could only assume was a "medic" orc. "Erourk, you finished with Vork yet?" he barked impatiently. Erourk, the medic orc, glanced up and quickly tied off the bandage he'd been working on.

"All done, captain." He said quietly, a low growl revealing his own impatience with the captain.

Vork, Erourk's patient, quickly stood up and placed a gnarled hand on the bandage that wrapped all the way around his skull from his under his chin to the top of head. He gingerly touched a particularly sensitive part near his ear and growled menacingly at Legolas when it proved painful. "Damned pointy-ear!" he snarled, before turning to the captain, "why not jerst lemme kill 'im 'ere? His mightiness'll never know."

"Yer not to kill the prisoner, Vork. I don't care if he injured your head _and _your dignity. It was you who was so bent on chargin' the pointy-ear in da first place."

Vork only glared balefully at Hoshnak before turning away. Giving Vork one last glance, Captain Hoshnak turned to the rest of his company. "Up ya get, ya lazy maggots. I's time ter get a move on."

Grumbling, the company of orcs slowly picked themselves up and prepared themselves to continue their journey. The clamoring of weapons and armor overrode the sudden disturbance at the back of the company. Though not for long.

"What's goin' on back there?" Hoshnak barked at the company. The orcs only made way as two other orcs dragging something rather large and cumbersome filed up in front of Hoshnak. Legolas breathing stopped when he realized what exactly it was they were carrying. His memories came back full force and Legolas could only stare in utter helplessness as the two orcs hauled Iorwen to her feet with little to no mercy. Her eyes were almost completely closed, but Legolas could easily tell that she was awake. She was in the exact same state he'd been in only a little while earlier. It looked like as though she too had been knocked in the back of the head.

"What's this?" Hoshnak chuckled, grabbing Iorwen by the hair and lifting her head up, "another stray? His Mightiness'll be most pleased."

Legolas could easily see that Hoshnak was a good deal more intelligent than the soldiers he ruled. The way he talked and moved was evidence enough. He was more cunning, and Legolas wasn't happy about it.

Allowing a smirk to tweak his thin black lips, Hoshnak looked back at Legolas who could only glare at him in utter loathing. "Put da girl in front of the elf."

Legolas quickly discovered Hoshnak's reasoning behind this odd decision. As they started off, Iorwen's legs that were already like jelly in the first place started to give out from the stress and dizziness her head-bashing had caused. When Legolas tried to catch her on her first stumble, Hoshnak quickly snatched his bonded arms and threw him back. Legolas could only watch as the orc leading Iorwen roughly grabbed her by her upper arm and practically dragged her along the tunnel. Gritting his teeth in anger, Legolas tried to walk closer to her so that he could more easily help, but every time Legolas tried to assist the tiring human Hoshnak would either kick him behind his knees or shove him backwards. Finally it became too much for the elf to bear and he lunged at the orc, fully intent on breaking his head against the tunnel wall. He managed to tackle Hoshnak, but he'd only landed one punch on his pointy nose when he was suddenly pulled off him by clutching fingers. One of the orcs punched him squarely in the jaw. Another kicked him in the stomach with the spiked boots he was wearing. Legolas kicked that one that had punched him and sent the orc flying about five feet but no sooner had he accomplished this small victory than blackness took over his mind and he was floating between consciousness and sleep.

He didn't stay unconscious for very long however. Only minutes later, he was shaken awake and again forced to march behind Iorwen who was finally starting to walk a little straighter. She tried several times to look back at him but every time she did, the orc beside her would slap her hard on the cheek and she would stumble then regain her footing. It was seeing things like this that made Legolas want to rip the company of orcs apart with his teeth. And he vowed he would kill that captain before he got out of this hell hole. Of that he would make sure. Never before had an orc caused such loathing in his soul. Except maybe that one orc that had told him of Aragorn's fall into the river. That was certainly a short-lived hate compared to this one though.

Legolas wasn't entirely sure how long they walked along the seemingly endless tunnel. The soreness in his limbs and neck, coupled with the bruises forming on his jaw, as well as the rips he could feel in his stomach from the spiked boot; all of these together made him some type of zombie. He had no idea how he managed to keep walking. Some buried determination kept him on his feet and forced the mechanical marching that led him further into the depths of purgatory. The loss of blood from his stomach was causing his eyes to dim and his head to spin, but somehow he managed to make it to the cell that the orc shoved him and Iorwen into. He even managed to watch for a minute as they closed the crude small round door on the earthen cavern coupling as a cell and think to himself how glad he was to see nothing but darkness.

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_Iorwen POV_

There was very little at this point that could possibly wake me from my bodily-induced coma, but the flooding of flickering firelight that covered my vision was one of those things. I watched in half-consciousness as short creatures with spiny backs crawled down into the room I was in and pick up something lying very much so motionless on the ground. They dragged it out. And as the door closed; so did my eyes.

I awoke several hours later from a headache that was so painful it felt like someone was banging a rock against my skull. Sitting upright, I blinked in the impenetrable darkness and wondered inwardly for a moment if I was dead. After a quick pinch to my forearm, I instantly realized this wasn't true and I was actually just in that damned tunnel I'd had such a bad feeling about. I had found Legolas. And for that I was eternally grateful. But I'd had to watch as they'd beaten him for attacking that accursed fat orc. I gulped down a wave of sadness as I remembered the look on Legolas' face just before they whacked him in the back of the head with the butt of a short sword.

"Fucking orcs," I quietly cursed, rubbing my arm where I knew a bruise would be forming. Every time I'd tripped, that stupid creature had grabbed the same place on my arm and hauled me up again over and over again; just as harshly if not more so than the time before.

Too weary to even stand, I scanned my surroundings, looking for the one person I needed to see. Legolas wasn't anywhere in the cell. I didn't have to search the room to know that. I couldn't sense his presence like I normally could. He wasn't anywhere near the room. He was gone.

Vaguely, I could remember some point at which the door had opened and some of the orcs had come in. _They must have taken him, _I thought in despair.

I must have sat there for hours, simply wishing Legolas would return. At one point however, a small glimmer of joy was gifted to me when a torch--just like the ones that had led me into the cavern--was placed outside the door and a small amount of light was driven into the cell. I could hear an orc shuffling about outside, apparently getting comfortable against the wall for guard duty. _This is like Shelob's home away from home,_ I thought to myself in grim humor.

Stress and utter exhaustion took me over yet again about an hour later and I finally gave into the throes of sleep, my last thought lingering on the well-being of a certain elvish prince ling.

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:Well, that took me longer than expected, but school--now that it's back--has not exactly been friendly to me. It was very easy for me to write about the exhaustion and stress overtaking Iorwen because I pretty much feel the same way. Anyway! Thanks to those of you who keep reading and reviewing. I hope ya'll liked the slightly longer chapter!

-MusicalCharlatan


	22. When He Came Back

_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter Twenty-Two--When He Came Back

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_Iorwen POV_

There was no way to tell time in the dark hole that was my abode, but internal instinct told me it had to have been over 24 hours since last I'd seen Legolas. In those 24 hours, every petty fear I'd thought I'd ever buried, or even considered beneath me, resurfaced and attacked me with a fury that I hadn't experienced since childhood. Darkness petrified me, the shadow of the guard outside my door made me shrink against the wall when it moved, and, not to mention, my fearful imagination came back renewed and strong. Every possible horrible scenario about Legolas and what had happened to him assaulted my mind nearly every minute I was awake. I wanted to find him, to help him, and to get away from this godforsaken place full of shadows and evil.

I began to wonder if I'd ever leave the tunnel I'd had such a foreboding feeling about. I could picture in my mind an old version of myself, used and mistreated her entire life, begging to be allowed her last breath. You may think me dramatic for my desperation and trepidation, but you never entered that tunnel, you never experience the lack of light, the coldness, and the smell. All these were but individual vessels in the vast armada of horrors to drive me to madness in the short period of time that felt like a life age. More than anything I wanted to see the sun, to smell clean air, and hear a human voice. Though, I quickly found that an elf's voice worked just as well.

It was on my third day in the cell that Legolas returned to me. The guard had just pushed in my food when I realized that there was more than one bowl. I stared at the other bowl in a type of pending anxiety, my wariness that I'd steadily been nurturing over the last few days was what finally convinced me to leave it where it was. I took the bowl I normally ate out of and turned away from the other. Approximately an hour later, the crude rusted hinges on my door swung open with a bang that caused me to jump and scuttle to the other side of the room. A second later, one of the orcs, a short stubby creature I'd learned was known as Pigart, hobbled in, dragging behind him the limp body of what I was forced to decide was Legolas.

At first, all I could do was watch in breathless disquiet as Pigart and the other orc carrying Legolas dropped him unceremoniously on the floor. Pigart then plopped a pail on the floor containing God-only-knew-what dangerously close to Legolas' head and gave me a leering smile that made my blood run cold. "Ye'd better get to work if'n ya want the pointy-ear to live, girly. They're not done wit 'em yet."

He closed the door and left me standing there. Without hesitation, I rushed to Legolas' side and dropped to my knees beside him. Wiping away the matted hair sticking to his face, I beheld the noble elf prince that had gained my respect and awe in so few months…and I wanted to cry.

It didn't appear that there was and inch on his body that had not been covered in lacerations or horrendous bruises. From his neck down, he was positively painted in abrasions. And there were more than a few gashes that, if he'd not been an elf, would likely have killed him from loss of blood.

His ears were red and bleeding from parallel slashes that ran down the tips to his earlobes. His nails were burned down to the skin, and blisters had erupted all over his wrists and ankles. Both of his eyes were blackened and his eyebrows split open. Finger marks were wrapped around his neck like the coils of a snake, appallingly large and dark. His shirt had long since become useless and had apparently been ripped off, revealing rips in his stomach that were bordering on fatal. But the thing that really unnerved was that his eyes were closed. Legolas had once told me that elves only slept with their eyes closed when they were especially exhausted and weak.

Tears now falling freely at seeing the absolutely pitiful state my companion was in, I frantically thought of ways to help him. My eyes fell on the pail left by Pigart and curiosity took me. I quickly lifted it from its position near Legolas' head and peered inside. Within, some type of odd yellow paste coated the insides of the small pail. I gave it a small sniff before deciding it smelled like a type of mixture between honey and garlic. I'd heard of this type of mixture before. My friend who had been in Boys Scouts told me about some of the healing pastes they learned of before going camping. I wasn't at all sure how these orcs had managed to get their grubby little hands on such a commodity or why on earth they would allow me to use it on Legolas, but I wasn't about to complain.

Feeling slightly more cheerful, I sat down behind Legolas' head. Careful not to hurt him, I lifted his head and situated it in my lap. Every bit of my maternal instinct went into overdrive as I brushed aside his hair yet again and began to lightly smear the paste onto his torn skin using my ring finger. Marian had told me years ago that your ring finger was your weakest finger. Keeping that in mind, I gently massaged the healing mixture onto Legolas' face. After carefully covering his face, I laid his head back down on the floor and moved to his torso. My fingers tingled with a kind of girlish nervousness as I soothed the numerous cuts and slashes all over his abdomen, sides, and chest. I was so glad he was asleep. His legs, for the most part, seemed unhurt save for the blisters on his ankles and I took this as a good sign. Realizing that the wounds on his abdomen needed to be covered, for they were starting to bleed again, I ripped off a half of each of my pajama pant legs. (A feat, I learned, that is not so easy as Rambo makes it out to be. Cotton is one fabric that does not like to tear unless by the work of scissors.) Tying them as tight as I dared, I wrapped his stomach carefully with the lengths of fabric as evenly and well as I could.

For hours, I tried to tend to the tortured elf prince. It was a delicate process, one that taught my fingers gentleness and my heart patience. He never once stirred or opened his eyes. Never once did he move from the seemingly endless sleep his body had forced him into. The only sign of his survival was the barely perceptible rising and falling of his chest.

I didn't dare try and wake him. I knew he needed the rest more than anything else. Satisfied that I had done my job, I leaned back against a wall, his head resting in my lap yet again, and instantly fell victim to the powers of sleep.

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_Legolas POV_

The moment I awoke, I wished I hadn't. I'd experienced serious pain before, but never to the point where I was afraid to move at all. My arms felt like lead weight, my chest ached, my head throbbed like the reverberations of a deerskin drum, and my face felt like a paper mask that had been shredded and stomped on. Everything was throbbing or burning dully in some way. But I would say this: I felt vastly improved that I had hours prior.

Images of grasping, angry hands, hot metal that rang, and low burning fires that made skin blister and sweat burn flashed through my head unbidden and unwanted. The silence was almost welcome. The cackling, raspy voice of Hoshnak was gone and I wondered for a moment if I had indeed been turned into an orc like so many of my ancestors. For this, I had decided earlier on, was likely to become my fate. Scared enough by this idea to ignore the pain inflicted by doing so, I lifted my hand and put it as close to my face as my eyes deemed necessary. Relief of a kind I'd never experienced, washed over me like a salty wave when I realized it was the same calloused hand I'd known and used all my life. Ignoring the abundant cuts on said hand, I dropped it to the floor with a pathetic thud and tried not to think about how they' d nearly bled me dry. I was going to be very weak for the next few days, but I was going to live, which was more than could be said for the state of any human if they'd experienced the same thing.

A slight movement made me aware that I was lying on something soft and I lifted my eyes to look behind me. Iorwen's huge, blue-gray eyes nearly made my heart stop from fright when I spotted them leering over me, but my expression stayed the same even though my pulse hitched. I supposed for a moment that I must be dreaming, for Iorwen was one of the very last people I'd ever thought I'd see again. I wanted to give her the biggest smile in the world, but a kind of sadness in my heart halted the thought even as it reached my mind, telling me that a smile was something I wasn't sure how to create anymore.

But Iorwen had no such problem. A huge grin, the biggest one I'd ever seen her give, became plastered on her face. And then, to my amusement, an even bigger blush painted her cheeks red when she realized where my head was situated. Even in the darkness, her embarrassment was starkly evident.

"Eh…" hesitating slightly, she lifted my head and scooted back before sliding out and placing my head down on the cold floor ever so gently. I wanted to tell her to wait, to stay where she was, but my lips couldn't part to form the words. Only my eyes moved as I watched her sit down next to me, concern, joy, and the quickly dissipating embarrassment shining on her face like the vibrant colors of a banner. "How do you feel? Are you alright?"

The sound of her voice made me blink. It was the only friendly thing I'd heard in three days and it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever heard in that moment. Her concern and childlike manner was unnerving me. Normally, she was either chastising me or almost completely ignoring while she huffed about not having shoes. Confused and not entirely sure my voice still worked, I opened my mouth and at first all I got was a raspy croak that I was sure couldn't possibly be my own voice. "I'll be a-all…" I coughed, trying to clear my film-coated throat, "all…right."

A worried look overtook her previous expression and she stood to pick something up about five feet away before returning holding a beaten plate containing some type of watery slop and a type of carved spoon. "You need to eat," she said simply before sitting down next to me. Knowing this was true, I gave a weak smile and, with her help, sat up against the wall behind me. It was painful and I instantly knew why: whipping my unprotected back had been one of Hoshnak's favorite pastimes. Iorwen saw my distress and, without a word, slowly pulled me forward so she could see my back.

"Oh, damn," she breathed, and that word alone was now enough to make me smile. Iorwen was back again. "I can't believe I forgot about your back. I'm so stupid."

Before I could inquire into what she was talking about, she was up again, but this time she returned with a small pail. I watched in unmasked interest as she sat down holding the pail in her lap before staring at me pointedly. She seemed to be waiting for me to do something but I didn't know what. "Lean forward," she finally said, a tinge of exasperation lacing her words as I sat there. Still thoroughly confused, I did as I was told, and then nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt her cold hands on my back, smearing in some type of paste. I could practically hear the frown in her voice as she spoke to me, "You're very jumpy now…"

It was so quiet I almost didn't hear her.. It hurt to hear her say the thing I'd been aware of ever since I'd woken up. I was different now; changed from the horrible thing that had happened to me in the tunnels of torture. I closed my eyes and made no answer. I tried to focus on the feeling of her hands and found that it wasn't difficult. Her close proximity was enough to make me a little nervous, but I soon forgot that when the paste started to do its job. It was cool and soothing. Not to mention, the circular massaging motions she was making were enough to send me back to sleep they were so soft and calming. I tried to ignore the pleasant tingles that kept traveling up and down my spinal column as she massaged, but they only got worse as she worked further down and reached the small of my back. I positively melted in her grasp and a soft moan escaped my lips that I hadn't realized was trying to escape.

She only chuckled. A reaction I hadn't been expecting. "It feels good?" she queried, her thumbs working out a knot over my shoulder blade. All I could do was nod dumbly.

"Good," she said as she dragged her fingers up from the small of my back, along my sides, and up to my neck, causing nerves I didn't even know I had to practically burst into flame.

"What happened, Legolas?" The question was about as unexpected as snow in July.

"What do you mean?" I asked hesitantly, mind racing to figure out what she speaking of.

"How'd they capture you…?"

I sighed, not entirely desiring to enter this topic of conversation. "I went to search for food just like I told you, but I'd scarcely gone fifteen steps when this rogue orc came charging at me with a net in one hand and a short sword in the other. I was surprised of course, but his rampage wasn't exactly difficult to dodge so I tossed him against a rock. However, he had not been the only one. Right after I had disposed of the first one, about ten more of the loathsome creatures appeared and surrounded me before I had sufficient time to react. Orcs are not generally hard to fight, even in large numbers, so I thought I could handle myself. Granted, I didn't have my twin daggers or my bow, but I've done enough wrestling and hand-to-hand combat back home in my training to have a clear--albeit slight--advantage. Unfortunately, I forgot about the first orc with the net. He returned, indignant rage burning within himself, and threw the net over my head, and-with the help of his comrades--managed to wrest me to the ground. Then I supposed they knocked me unconscious. And of course you know everything that followed that…" I ended it, hoping she wouldn't ask about my time spent with Hoshnak.

Apparently, she realized this desire on my part, but something was clearly bothering her still that she wanted an answer about. "But…" she started off slowly, unsure as to how to approach the subject without treading on my wishes, "You needn't tell me everything--but I want to know…what did they want from you? What information could they have possibly needed from you?"

I recalled the answer easily. It had, after all, been repeated to me incessantly for nearly 3 days. "A company of orcs on the border of Emyn Muil managed to catch a dozen or so of my kinsmen near the Falls of Rauros, but, before the orcs could return with them, they escaped. They not only killed their captors, they carved them to pieces. I wish I knew who the elves were, for they overcame absolutely tremendous numbers compared to their own. They took 50 orcs and cut them apart, limb by limb, and left their remains in piles near the Falls. Naturally," I winced as she touched a particularly sensitive area on my shoulder blade, "They wanted to know if I had any affiliation with these "pointy-ears" as Hoshnak so fondly referred to them. They wanted me to tell them of their whereabouts. Even if I had known, I would never have told them."

Iorwen was quiet for a long while, apparently mulling over what I'd told her. "We have to escape soon, " she said and somehow her words didn't surprise me in the least. "They said they weren't finished with you. We have to go before they come back and take you away again."

That thought alone was enough to make me shut my eyes in muted dread. I did not fear the orcs. I feared what might become of me if they were to continue their interrogation of me. I did not wish to join their ranks…

Not to mention, it was only a matter of time before they turned to Iorwen. I was not at all sure I'd be able to contain myself if they attempted to use her as blackmail against me. There would be no way of saving her.

"Legolas?" My eyes that I had not even realized I'd closed in the impenetrable darkness flashed open, and I turned to look at the human woman sitting behind me.

"Yes?" I inquired, trying to still the slight flutter that started somewhere in my stomach and worked into my throat.

"Do you…think we'll survive this?"

I couldn't help but smile. The concern and naivety in her voice was to be admired in my opinion. I had no doubt we could escape this hell hole. Whether or not we could do it in time was another thing all together…

"Fear not," I answered, my voice taking on a carefree tone I was surprised I was actually able to conjure, "We shall flee this place if I have to strangle every orc in this tunnel with my bare hands. I shall not let you or myself perish in such a filthy place. This was not what I wished you to see of my homeland."

She smiled lightly at that. "Yeah. I gotta say you're welcoming committee was pretty lousy."

I laughed quietly and shook my head. "You are using those odd phrases and slang terms you warned me of again. I was hoping you would forget them once you had spent a few days in Middle Earth."

"Not likely." Leaning back against the wall, she gave me a cool look-over. "After all, I was kinda hoping you'd drop the gentleman act and start acting like a normal person. Even though…you're not really all that…normal."

"You do realize I accidentally picked up a few of those phrases and terms, don't you? I have caught myself about to use them on several occasions."

She smiled devilishly and in fake German accent replied. "It was futile to resist."

I sighed.

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:I updated!! Yea me! PLEASE review, people. My reviews have been dreadfully few and far between lately and I'm getting a little discouraged to say the least.

-MusicalCharlatan


	23. To Those Left Behind

_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter 23--To Those Left Behind

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It is common to imagine winter as the vast picturesque white wonderland that is so often plastered on the fronts of cheery Christmas cards and window stick'ems. It comes as no surprise, however, that in most places all over the world this quiet ideal scene is not so prevalent as it is in the seasonal Christmas specials that pop up every year around wintertime like unbidden house guests right before Thanksgiving. In Texas, winter is the type of thing that native Texans refer to as a rather offhand afterthought; almost like--and very similar to--the way an Eskimo might talk about summer.

That's not to say winter didn't wrap its fingers around Texas just like it did the rest of the U.S. Old Man Winter was very crafty when it came to getting his way come September. It didn't snow truckloads like it did up North where it appeared that the sky had sagged under all the snow and finally--in one massive explosion--spilled all its carefully contained stores of icy whiteness. No, in Texas, winter found its joy in that lovely metaphor we often see in books: "the icy hands of death." Cold--as only the South knew it to be--would creep into your bones and practically freeze every joint in your body. Occasionally, a tentative little inch of snow would try to take its chances on the hard Texas ground, but its presence was hardly even needed. Texas Cold knew how to survive without its icy compatriot and it was _this _particular cold that was seeping into Marian Edwards as she sat atop the good-natured mare she'd borrowed from the Johnson's.

The leather gloves covering her hands didn't seem to be doing a bit of good for her arthritic joints, but she was beginning to become much more accustomed to all these new painful inconveniences that seemed to come with growing old. The ride down here had been nothing short of nasty, what with the freezing air, the creaking old western saddle, and the horse's persistent attempts at stopping to graze every five seconds. However, at this point, all these little nuances were all that were keeping Marian from bursting into tears. The inconvenience of the cold was a welcome complaint when it allowed her to keep her mind off the reason for her being there.

Behind her, mounted on a little mountain pony the Johnson's had bought in Colorado, Frodo sat like some type of undersized Grecian statue, never saying a word as they ambled up to the large oak tree brooding over the rest of the vacant field like a skyscraper over some condominiums. He hadn't said a word the entire ride up there. And there was no need to. Marian felt the tenseness just as well as he did. It pervaded her senses better than anything else ever had. Sorrow that they'd filed away for decades had poured into them yet again when Marian had finally voiced what she'd wanted to do. He'd said neither "yah" nor "nay" at her request; only packed his bags and left them outside his door. They'd climbed into the old, practically antique Pathfinder SUV that Marian had flat-out refused to get rid of and they'd driven from Montana straight down to Texas straight as a crow flies, only stopping for night's rest and the occasional meal.

Marian knew the way down well. She could still remember that horrid trip from Atlanta to Etoile when she'd gone bearing the news she knew she had to break to Iorwen's only true remaining family. The grandparents had been hard to talk to, but that meeting was almost casual compared to the reception she got from Iorwen's sister. Sonya had just stared at Marian--stared at her like as though she'd just given her the most normal news of her life. Marian had burned with anger at the reaction she got from Sonya. It wasn't until two weeks later when she heard of the woman's suicide did she realize the true extent of what Iorwen's disappearance had meant to her.

The land and the house seemed virtually untouched. The barn and the white-washed house looked as prim and countrified as ever. Horses still grazed freely, only now there was a fence running around much of the valley. The Johnson's had understood and been very compliant when informed on the state of Marian and Frodo's visit. And anyway, they'd heard the story from some of the local people in Etoile about how one of the granddaughters of an old Etoile family had disappeared off the face of the planet like a fleeting thought from the mind. They happily lent out the horses to Marian and Frodo (or rather, Ethan, as he was now referred to), not thinking for a moment to doubt the two. Besides, why should you distrust an aging woman and a old, curly-haired midget?

Marian gripped the reins of the bridle as one who fears the water might grip the edge of a pool. Frodo, sitting stiffly on his horse, waited patiently for her to dismount before he himself did. Sighing, Marian lifted her right leg with much care and slowly descended from her perch. Frodo followed her movements and followed as she walked unsurely towards the tree; both of them abandoning the horses to graze on the frigid pale grass that was determined to show-up winter by staying alive.

Stepping up to the base of the tree, Marian painstakingly kneeled at its foot directly in front of a white cross that had long since shed its paint and donned the fetching shade of moldy brown that most outdoor wood so adores. Gulping down tears, Marian produced the small trowel that she had carried all the way from Montana in her purse and she began to dig at the base of the cross. The box wasn't deep. Only a few shovelfuls and soon Marian had produced a small metal box with rusted hinges and peeling army green paint. Frodo, kneeling down next to her, carefully took the box from her trembling hands and laid it between them. Careful not to break the ancient latch of the box, he pulled up the lid and reached in slowly to withdraw the few precious items they had stored within. He placed the old copies of The Lord of the Rings trilogy and the game pieces from their beloved board game "Trouble" on the earth and moved on to the folded piece of paper laid at the bottom of the box.

Unlike their selves, the letter looked practically untouched by age. It was even yellowed after all the thirty years of idle waiting it had spent at the bottom of the box. Frodo slowly unfolded it and Marian was reminded of the morning she had opened it for the first time so long ago. She recalled the sound of the paper crinkling and the heat of tears behind her eyes. Stains still remained on the paper, testifying to that day.

She felt the familiar sensation now and knew she could no longer hold it in.

It would be complete and utter folly to say that happy endings can be achieved without sacrifice and painful happenings. Those authors who wrote of "Once upon a time…"s and "So they lived…"s were fools. Those phrases were only given to those who suffered the most. Marian knew that she'd gotten her happy ending: a companion she could love and trust for the entirety of her life. But in the process, she'd lost her original companion, who was in turn achieving her own happy ending. _"Because I have loved life, I shall have no sorrow to die__.1" _

Frodo, handing Marian the letter, turned away and tried not to hear or think on the words she had just uttered. Wrapping her frail hands about the pale white skin of the letter, Marian kneeled and held the paper aloft to read the words she had memorized instantly the first time she'd read them.

_To Those Left Behind,_

_You have been left to shape your own fortunes just as your friends have been driven to theirs. As they proceed, so shall you. Sorrow be it that these journeys must be continued on different planes. But know ye this, Fortune never smiled on the damned. You may not consider it fortune to be left thus, yet your perception is limited in this portrait. Where you see only a corner of the masterpiece, we perceive its entirety and wonder at the foolhardiness of our creations. You are strong and weary; those being two characteristics that are very often in fellowship. There is now only one course of action you may take upon yourselves: forget._

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1 Amelia Burr:.Long overdue and rather depressing, but no fear! I am presently working on another chapter! And when I say that I mean, I'm almost finished writing it--I just need to type it. Thank you, O faithful readers! I had a wondrous outcome of reviews last chapter that left me astounded. Keep them coming and I dare say, I just might keep up this fic. .


	24. Because of You

_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter Twenty Four--Because of You

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_Legolas POV_

"So how long do you think it took the orcs to dig these tunnels anyway?"

Lifting my hand from the ground, I pushed away a strand of cobweb that had fluttered onto my leg and contemplated her very reasonable question. "That is what worries me, " I sighed, "These tunnels…they--at the least--must have needed a decade's worth of work for the pace orcs work at. But yet the War of the Ring has only just ended. It had been scarce a year when I returned to Eryn Lasgalen. It is a wonder to me that they have worked so quickly. Or else…these catacombs have been present long before the War of the Ring."

Iorwen peered strangely at me in the darkness. "You mean to say that these could have been here _before_ Mordor was destroyed? But, wait, isn't this the same route that Frodo and Sam took to enter the marshes on their way to destroy the ring? From my recollections, all they ever encountered in Emyn Muil was Gollum."

She was correct. I was, after all, the one who had read "The Two Towers" in our search for answers only days prior. Frodo and Sam had wandered for ages in Emyn Muil attempting to find a way out of the rocky labyrinth. If there had been orcs here then they would not have hesitated to take the two hobbits. But then, if the tunnels had not been present then…

"Legolas."

I broke out of my self-induced trance, a sinking feeling steadily overtaking my wakefulness. Iorwen appeared strangely sorrowful as she spoke. "Legolas, perhaps…Do you think that maybe time works…differently here? Maybe it moves…quicker?"

"Quicker?" Perhaps it had been more than just a few years since last I was here. Years; not long in an elf's life, but--ever so often--they were imperative. Middle Earth had been sitting on the brink of major change right before I'd been transported. It seemed I was about to see just how major.

Quietly, I sank back against the wall of the cave. I could feel Iorwen's worried gaze on my face, but I didn't have the energy or the strength of will to console her. After all, there was no purpose in doing so. All I could hear was that one question, bouncing around the insides of my skull like a confused fly stuck in solid cage.

_How long? How long? How long? How lo……._

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_Iorwen POV_

He was getting worse. I could see it plainly in the blank expression he cast on me when I asked him how he was. His wounds were worsening, opening up again and becoming infected. He was sleeping all the time, eyelids tightly shut. And when he was awake he was half-delirious. He was losing all of his will. I could see him slipping away. Like sand in a sieve, he was steadily falling through my fingers.

All those assumptions I'd made before were becoming increasingly wrong.

- _An elf would be able to heal up quickly for sure._

Not so much.

- _So, we don't have much food. I'm sure he can sustain himself on what we do have_.

No.

- _The lack of light and fresh air won't keep him from recovering so long as I carefully looked after him. _

Not.

Covering my eyes with my hands, I tried to momentarily shut out the rest of the world. Maybe when I opened them I'd be back in East Texas in my little clearing with Fara, having just woken up from a peaceful yet uncomfortable nap on the ground next to the little stream. I would get up and ride back to the bunkhouse, but when I went into the stables the only unusual sounds I'd encounter would be the sound of a rat in the loft overhead.

I sat for a moment contemplating what exactly life would have been like had an elf not bounced off my grandfather's tractor and landed directly in my lap of responsibility. No highly terrifying life-threatening experiences with a kitchen knife, no Frodo in my closet, no party-going mishaps. And no trips to Middle Earth.

The answer astounded me.

**Boring.**

Life, without all the things that had occurred in the last two months, would have been boring as Hell. I uncovered my eyes and looked at Legolas who was asleep a few feet away. His eyes were closed still and his breathing was uneven due to his bruised ribs. Sudden determination beset me, and I quickly made my way to his side. Reluctant to wake him, but knowing I had to in order to obtain _any_ kind of cooperation from him, I gently shook him. It didn't take much. One shake and his eyelids shot up like mini-blinds. I could instantly tell that I wasn't going to get a sensible word out of him when I saw how glazed-over his eyes appeared.

"Iorwen," he said, reaching up and touching my face, "It was strange. I was dreaming. I dreamt I was standing on an island and I was the only one there. All about me lay the bodies of ones I'd known and loved. But then you came and you told me to ignore them because…" he dropped his hand, "they were nothing. You said that the only important thing was us because that was how the Valar had ordained it to be." Flashing me a bitter smile that terrified my strongest parts, he beat his head once against the ground in pent-up agony as tears rolled from his eyes and into his hair. "The Valar took me away from everything I cared about because of you. I never thought of it that way before, but I suppose it is true."

"STOP IT!" Scrambling backwards over the grimy floor of the cell, I tried to deny his words. "What are you talking about?! How can you say that?!"

Legolas chuckled and sat upright, grimacing as his wounds protested but ignoring them. "They told me, Iorwen." He laughed again, a laugh so devoid of humor and joy it chilled me. "I guess they never deemed you appropriate of an 'Insider's Visit.'" He fell into more chuckles, so that I was halfway convinced I was speaking to a madman. "The Great God of a Fool told me he was going to give me some kind of ultimate happiness! He decided that he was to take me away from all I knew, from all I loved and cherished, so that I could go be with some silly, foolish, naïve human girl who did not want me anyway! You know what I think they wished, Iorwen? I think that they wished for _me_ to love you and for _you _to love me in return! How strange the ways of omnipotent beings!"

Sitting on the floor, sobbing, I tried to make sense of it. "No, you're lying, Legolas! That's not the truth. Why would something like that happen? You're just feverish or something. You're speaking nonsense. You're angry for some reason, and you're taking it out on your gods. People do it all the time. Please don't hurt me, Legolas. I can recover from many things, but not a shattered heart. I will not. Please--"

"NO!"

I fell into wracked heaps of sobbing as he snarled at me and fell back onto the floor. "It is your fault! You were the cause of it, and then--when you would not even accept me--they took me back here to make my torture complete. My people are gone! My kinsman, my family, and my hope! I am all alone now…" Daring to peer across at him through my tear-blurred eyes, I watched as he fell back to sleep from exhaustion and grief.

"…alone."

All this time…it was all some game played by the Valar to satisfy…something. And now he hated me, or--rather--had hated me, for it was because of me he lost everything.

Curling up on the floor like a hurt child, I pushed myself up against the wall and cried till I could cry no more.

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::.Again, have no fear, this is NOT how it's gonna end; just to make sure. The next chapter should be quite long. A LOT of things are gonna happen in it, but for now I'd like ya'll to concentrate on this one and everything it changes. P.S. Thank you to all of you who are still reading so loyally and reviewing. I couldn't do it without ya!

-MusicalCharlatan


	25. To Never Be the Cause of His Pain

_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter Twenty Five--To Never Be the Cause of His Pain

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_One day prior to Legolas' return to the cell…_

"Finwe!"

Turning away from the piece of wood he was whittling into a small bird, Finwe Oronra looked back at the fast approaching figure of his brother and his second-in-command, Valandil. "What ails you, Valandil?"

"Only doubts of my sanity, brother." Valandil replied grim-faced.

Chuckling, Finwe returned his attention to his wooden bird. "Then long-fed doubts they are. Our own father has been informing you of your…questionable state-of-mind for quite some time now. So, tell me, what is your _true_ issue?"

Sighing, Valandil sat down next to his brother. "Forgive me, Finwe. My sense of humor is temporarily incapacitated. It is currently overcome with my sense of anxiety. You think to extract a petty trouble from me, but, I must tell you, nothing has disturbed me more."

His curiosity aroused as well as his concern, Finwe placed the small bird on the ground next to him and turned his full attention to his brother. "Then, again, I shall say, what ails you?"

Face screwed up with the effort of putting his worries into words, Valandil glanced over his shoulder once before turning back to his brother. "I had a vision last night."

"From whom?"

Valandil shook his head. "I can not be certain. I would believe it to be Eru if it were not for my own self-doubt, for why would he visit me?"

"It depends. What was the vision?"

"I never actually saw the speaker. He was but a shadow outwardly illuminated by the light of the moon behind him. But everything about him was mighty and terrible to behold. There was power in his very presence. He stood upon a rise of land and said to me, 'Valandil, yo--" An unknown voice suddenly broke his speech.

"You have been called upon for help at this hour." Lifting their heads up in the direction of the voice, Valandil and Finwe watched in astonishment as the young and vivacious Merenwen Silimaure, daughter of Amras, dropped from the trees like a veritable squirrel to land before them.

Finwe frowned disapprovingly at her. "Merenwen, when will you learn that it is highly impolite to eavesdrop on others?"

Merenwen returned with a winning smile and placed herself before them cross-legged. "I can not see how it makes much of a difference, seeing as how I received the very same vision last night as well."

Valandil started and narrowed his eyes on the slender figure standing before him. "You mean to say, you were given a vision as well?"

Merenwen sat down cross-legged in front of them, a mildly amused yet trouble expression on her face. "I would not call it a vision so much as a warning. A figure, like you said, obscured by streaming light, did appear to me and gave me this admonition: He said we were to turn around and head for Emyn Muil. He spoke of some of our kindred--that they had been taken."

Valandil nodded in agreement, "My message was much the same."

"But none of it makes sense to me, Finwe." Merenwen continued, "All of our company is accounted for. Not a one has fallen behind or been lost--at least none that we have been aware of…"

Valandil regarded her severely. "Unless…we have miscounted?"

Finwe shook his head. "Nay. I do not think it to be so. At each outing, we have watched our numbers and they are few. We left none in Emyn Muil--of that, I would place a wager. What else did this anonymous messenger say?"

Merenwen turned to Valandil who could only furrow his brow in consternation. "All else that I can remember is of a promise…" He stated unsurely.

"A promise?" Merenwen had apparently not heard this particular part of the message.

Valandil nodded his head in affirmation. "He told me that perhaps our search for that leader of inherent authority may yet be available to grasp."

They were all silent. Finally, Finwe stood and beckoned them to follow. "Come, we must not linger. Idleness now, when so obvious a mission has been set upon us, would be folly of the worst kind. Valandil, go, gather together a dozen of our of our best fighters--excluding those wounded from our last encounter. Merenwen, inform the rest of our company of our departure, giving only the vaguest of details you may depart as to our reason for leaving. Let them know only that fellow allies have been captured. At the latest, we shall be gone for three and thrice more days. Then, make our preparations as best they can be made. I do not yet know the extent of what we are to encounter, but I shall not go into a battle of any kind unprepared."

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_Iorwen POV_

I would not allow myself to be the cause of his death. Thus far, I'd managed to put him through all types of misery, and now I knew--better than I knew anything--that it was my responsibility to get him and myself out of the grasp of the ors. I had never felt so strongly about anything in my entire life. The determination that rolled over me was like the awakening crash of a freezing wave upon one's body. I knew the resentment within him now, whether he'd meant to make his feelings known to me or not. And perhaps I'd already known all along. All this time I'd felt guilty leading him through my world and hardly ever appreciating him for his help. He had been so lost there and now, because of my presence, he was lost even in his own world.

Being consumed with my mission, I set my plan carefully and laid in wait for my opportunity. That was perhaps the hardest part. All I could do was wait in the wavering darkness of the cell. I found myself glancing back and forth from the cell door and my companion's unmoving form. Finally, overcoming the reluctance that seemed to be controlling my limbs, I stood and made my way to his side. Kneeling down, I then sat and stretched out my legs next to his.

He was so thin. The baggy pajamas I'd bought for him at a time that seemed ages ago now, made him appear to be nothing more than a corpse. His skin was pale and of an unnatural pallor, blotched by bruises and gray in spots as though entering the decomposing process. Yet again, I found myself searching for vital signs. Thankfully, at the press of my fingers on his neck, a light pulse attested to his continuing life.

Looking upon him reminded me of a feeling I'd had during my childhood. I had taken a painting done by my mother, certain that I could improve upon its appearance. But it only worsened as I worked. Finally, when I realized what it was I'd done, it was too late. Standing back and examining it, I had been overwhelmed with guilt at the sight of the picture's malformed manifestation. My mother's masterpiece had been utterly destroyed by my own hands.

Now, looking down upon the haggard being that had at one time been so beautiful and preserved with immortal age I could not help but feel like some kind of a murderer.

My eyes traveled up to his ruffled blond hair and the small braids on either side of his face. For all the time I'd known him, I'd never seen him without those braids and the long one gathered at the back of his head. I could vaguely remember something about how the elves considered their hair to be a glory; its length and health being a show of their status.

Stroking back some of the strands from his feverish forehead, I wondered how far he'd now strayed from his traditional elvish life. I was even still trying to understand why on earth he was sick if he was an elf. From what I could recall, the only way an elf could become sick was if their true love died or if they lost all their hope. Was that it? Had his will to live been broken?

Feeling the hot pressure of tears behind my eyes, I pulled his head on to my lap and began to undo the frayed braids with careful fingers. Stroking my hands through matted hair, I began to slowly work out the knots and the dirt. I worked on those locks of hair for what must have been hours. With no brush to aid me, all I could do was use my fingers as the teeth of a fine comb Finally, when I was satisfied with my work, I began to rebraid the tiny plaits. I worked them as well as I could, my experience with braids limited to the ones I'd fixed in the hair of my plastic horses as a little girl. As I worked, I sang--a poem I'd written years before and put to music; very much so influenced by the trilogy I'd just finished reading: the Lord of the Rings. The irony was not lost on me.

_I see them as stark white, _

_Against the blackness of my eyes._

_There's nothing in this world,_

_I more fully could despise,_

_Such faces make the blood run cold,_

_And freeze the marrow in the bone._

_The shrieks they emit like some anguish;_

_The sum of deaths they have sown._

_No more can I take this cold pursuit,_

_The burden they follow just grows._

_But though my heart feels laden,_

_I shall endure all these cumbersome blows._

_Take from my grip this curse,_

_Laid upon me by friendly hands._

_The enemy just grows stronger,_

_And I, weaker, from all their evil plans._

_Such a small person to carry it,_

_Such a slow, futile journey._

_My dear One, savor your summer,_

_For I know I shall not see many._

_Blessed are those who endeavor,_

_Endeavor to end that which is wrong._

_But I fear that this story shall only,_

_Be told through the ballad of a sad elvish song._

_Adventure no more, is this,_

_But punishment for some unknown sin._

_I now depart those whom I love,_

_With little hope of seeing them again._

_O Faithful One who shall follow,_

_Guided by loyalty and love._

_Together we shall traverse this death plain,_

_May Eru watch from above._

_Though the ash choke and obscure us,_

_Our feet shall continue on._

_The end waits so patiently for us,_

_With no path to lead us back home._

_Bleeding hands shall fumble,_

_And grasping hands shall steal._

_Now with no one else to aid me,_

_I shall end this turning wheel._

_But upon the quarrel's ending,_

_He fell to doom in fire._

_And I, lying half-dead 'pon rock, _

_Felt torn 'tween relief and desire._

_A journey so hopeless now foreclosed, _

_The ending of a magnificent story._

_But as legend fails, so shall I, _

_These heroes who triumphed o'er glory._

_But remember, O ye who are now free,_

_Remember the sacrifice made._

_For it has been satisfied for you,_

_That price which could not be paid._

As I was nearing the end of the third braid, I felt the soft and tentative touch of a hand on my leg, halting me in my work. Having closed my eyes as the last strand was laid, I opened them then to see blue eyes that had never lost their color gazing up into my own.

"Nani?"(mother)

I blinked in surprise. Mother?

He spoke again. But I could understand none of it. It was either Quinya or Sindarin, but I knew too little of the languages to be sure. I searched my mind for some phrase I might have memorized as an LotR fan girl years prior. Instantly, the words came upon me to say; words I was certain I'd never learned but was now certain I knew.

"Lle ume quel," (you did well) stroking his hair as I was sure a mother would, I repeated the words quietly, watching in pity as he began to fall back into his almost coma-like sleep. I could not understand why such a phrase would soothe him, but soothe him it did. As his eyes closed, I placed my hand on his cheek and kissed him lightly on the bridge of his nose. "I promise…I will not allow you to remain here. I will make it up to you. I will see you made into the prince of elves you once were. And when I have done that, I will leave you to your life, and I will _never_ again be the cause of you pain…"

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_Two days later_

Hoshnak was tired of waiting. The commander had made him wait for so long to take the pointy-ear back to the dungeons. He had insisted that a dead elf was absolutely no good to them. Hoshnak begged to differ.

But now, the word had come. No more waiting. Everyday the elf bastards that had escaped their clutches were advancing further into the woods beyond. Armed with a fierce-looking scimitar and a malevolent smirk, Hoshnak and two of his workers made their way down the small dungeons tunnel that branched off the main corridor. Eager to reach their destination, the two unarmed grunt orcs went ahead of Hoshnak and stood next to the cell they were looking for. It was last on the tunnel, its door adjacent to the tunnel's ending wall so that it would not open hardly any more than 90 degrees. The door itself was little more than a crude oak circle cut from trees in nearby Amon Hen. A small grate allowed a generous amount of light to spill into the room beyond.

None of the orcs, however, were thinking of any of these things, so perhaps the next thing that happened was only inevitable. Stepping forward with the massive keys made by crude orc blacksmiths, Hoshnak set them in the lock and turned. All at once, a loud crack was heard opposite their side of the door, and the oak opening came flying out at a rate much too fast to be safe. In less than a few nanoseconds, Hoshnak found himself smashed between the door and the tunnel wall. His head hit hard rock and he fainted away like a finicky human babe. With the opening of the door, a blur of blue and black jetted out of the room, carrying in one hand a rusted plate with an edge that had been sharpened to deadly precision. Iorwen tackled the first orc she saw and before the startled creature could even make a move to remove her from his person, she slashed the edge of the plate along his neck once across and then once back in one swift move. The last orc launched himself at her, a notched scimitar firmly in hand.

Thinking quickly, the enraged human woman dodged the first swipe of the orc's blade and drew the harsh side of the plate along his unprotected belly. The orc stumbled and gave her a feral snarl that would have scared her to death had she not been overcome with some crazed battle fever. So, raising the plate again, she drew it along his neck just as she had the orc before.

Exhilarated with her unprecedented victory, she hurried back into the room to gather her remaining implements. Returning with a length of rope she'd fashioned from her already ruined pajama pants, she quickly hauled Hoshnak out from behind the door with some amount of work and set to tying his foul gnarled hands as tightly as she could, and using its end to make a kind of crude lead rope. Then taking a wad of cloth from one of the dead orcs, she stuffed it into Hoshnak's mouth. Satisfied with her work, she then went back into the cell for her last possession. Hauling Legolas' to his feet was no easy matter, but the strength she'd been gaining from all the constant travel in Middle Earth was no small help. The elf's barely conscious state was difficult to work with, but she'd been preparing for this moment for the past three days.

His eyes were barely open as she drug him out of the room to stand in front of Hoshnak. Leaning Legolas against the wall, she picked up Hoshnak's scimitar and slapped him across the face with it. Coming to, Hoshnak snarled in pain at the fierce slap and glared up at her.

"Off your ass, pig." Iorwen said, grabbing him by the collar and helping to yank him to his feet. She trained the scimitar at the point between his neck and shoulders.

Hoshnak gave her an evil expression that could have been either a spiteful sneer or a smirk. "What do you think you can with 'at, human?" He gurgled out from behind the cloth.

Putting on a brave front, Iorwen dug the tip of the sword into Hoshnak's jugular, causing blood so dark it was almost black to excrete like some foul pus. Hoshnak growled, but only shut his teeth together tightly . Iorwen bestowed a glare on him that would have wilted flowers.

"Silence, _yrch,_" she said, remembering the word for orc spoken by Legolas in the Two Towers, "If you give me the opportunity, I shall gladly drive this blade into your neck, and then I'll watch in pure bliss as your body twitches like a speared fish."

Hoshnak only glowered at her from under thick black brows.

"Time to go." Prodding the orc in the back with the scimitar, Iorwen worked her way over to Legolas who was still leaning pitifully against the wall, barely conscious. Pulling one of his arms over and around her neck, she hauled him up. "Alright, elf boy, you've gotta help me out here. Please don't go to sleep again. I need your legs to keep up the pace. Okay?"

He made no sound, only lifted his leaden eyes until they were level with her own.

Nodding her head, Iorwen managed a small smile at the recognition she could see in his eyes. "Alright, Mr. Eros, that'll do."

Turning back to Hoshnak, she gave the orc another prod in the back of his neck, still holding the rope she'd fashioned and attached to his bound wrists. "Alright, buddy, lead the way. And you'd better lead us straight and true--no traps, got it? Or I swear to God--or, rather, Elbereth--I'll slit your throat before they even manage to catch us again."

Hoshnak made no sound, only made his way grudgingly down the tunnel; Iorwen right on his heels with Legolas following at his most capable pace.

The tunnels were about as complex and winding as they came. The uncertain, haphazard way of the orcs was apparent in every twist and turn Hoshnak dragged them down. And except for the occasional fiery orange light of a sconce along the way, light was as scarce for the orcs as much as a bar of soap probably was. They never encountered any other orcs; something that worried Iorwen rather than pleased her. No orcs now, usually meant plenty of orcs later. But she also wasn't one to turn down a convenient offer, so they continued steadily on through the tunnels, occasionally taking rests when Legolas didn't seem to be able to keep up. Iorwen, herself, knew that she had to be strong. She would push herself as hard and long as she had to if it meant getting Legolas out alive.

She kept a scrutinizing eye on Hoshnak at all times; not daring to trust him or let him out of her sight for a second. She knew the fool would be intent on stopping her sometime soon. There was no way he was going to go so quietly as he was. But at least with the scimitar at his neck, he wasn't likely to try anything stupid. Nearly ten minutes into their trek, Iorwen began to notice that the tunnels were widening and becoming less stuffy with stale air. It was gradually becoming easier to breathe, and their steps, she noted, were heading progressively upward. "You're doing well, orc. Take us to an exit and I'll spare your miserable life."

To Iorwen's delight, she could spy a natural light barely peeping through an opening a ways ahead. Picking up the pace, she hauled Legolas' arm securely onto her shoulder and resisted the urge to cry at the sight of light.

Then the smell hit her. The unmistakable stench of orcs assailed her nose before they'd even reached the broad cave at the end of the tunnel.

"I knew it!" she seethed, yanking back on the rope securing Hoshnak. "Loathsome creature! I now need no excuse to sever you from this life."

Raising the scimitar to strike the orc dead, she was suddenly halted when the unmistakable sound of a barrage of arrows reached her ears. Turning away from her captive, Iorwen raised her eyes to the passage ahead of her and watched in shock as two orcs came fleeing down the tunnel, heedless of her presence and brushed past her as though she were nothing. Behind them, the cries of orcs rent the air.

It was at this moment that Hoshnak chose his opportunity. Snarling, the massive orc knocked the scimitar from her hand and used his bound wrists to knock her to the ground. Unable to stop the assault of such a large creature, Iorwen tried vainly to knock him back, but could only struggle as he pinned her down. Even with his wrists bound, Hoshnak's hands were long enough to wrap around Iorwen's neck, and so he began to choke her, grinning as strangled gasps escaped her mouth. "Pathetic human," he gargled around the gag in his mouth, "Die n--"

Gasping, Hoshnak's eyes widened in realization as the tip of his own scimitar worked its way through his rib cage. Gargling blood, the orc toppled, revealing to Iorwen a very exhausted Legolas. Watching as Hoshnak fell, Legolas gasped for air and sat down slowly.

"I vowed…I would kill you…Hoshnak." He sneered and fell back against the wall of the tunnel.

Still incredulous, not to mention lightheaded from lack of air, Iorwen turned to look up the passage where she could hear shouts in a language she knew was definitely not of Mordor or of any other dark place. Too hopeful to believe it, Iorwen crawled forward to Legolas and took his face in her hands.

"Lle ume quel, Legolas Thranduilion. Lle ume quel…"

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:Well, there you have it. Now, let's see what happens.

-MusicalCharlatan


	26. New Company

_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter Twenty-Six--New Company

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_He was running. The dark trees of Greenwood Forest passing by like blurs of color, his light Elvin feet carrying him to speeds a human could never dream of reaching on their own feet. He found himself laughing in exhilaration as he lightly hopped over rises of land and fallen trees. Blond hair streaked out behind him like a waving banner, and he willed his small body into another burst of speed. The trees marveled to see such a young elf in their midst; a strange sight to some who were used to the somber merriment of the High Elves. At four years of age, Legolas was progressing as all Elvin children did. Before their first year, elves were talking, walking, and generally already very understanding of the world around them. _

_Finally, the small elf-boy began to slow when he heard the sound of water. Before him, Forest River narrowed into a tentative trickling stream. This was where his mother had come with him this morning to wash out clothes, for she believed the water to be clearer and sweeter here than back where the servants normally washed the laundry. Singing a sweet tune, she had bid her only son leave to run and play, so long as he kept close. _

_But, now, scanning the banks of the river, he could see no sign of his mother anywhere…_

_Undaunted, the elfling listened attentively to the noises of the forest and maybe for the melodic sound of his mother's voice. _

"_Nani?" he called, taking a few steps forward._

_There was no response._

_This was worrisome. His mother had always come at his call._

"_Nani? Please come, nani. I wish to go home. Where are you?"_

_The only sound he could hear was the twittering of the birds in the canopy above. _

_Now, close to tears, the young prince scampered to the banks of the river. All about him, he could hear the concerned hum of the trees as they too joined the search. Turning away from the river, Legolas watched as the sun slipped rays of light through the trees and fell into the west. _

"_Nani?"_

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_Iorwen POV_

There was no coherent thought that instantly entered my mind when I awoke. All I knew--more than I knew anything else at that moment--was that I ached. It reminded me of the way a pencil might feel after being squeezed by the ambitious hand of a writer. But more than that, my throat was burning and felt horribly constricted. It was as though a hot grip had laced its fingers around my neck. At that image, however, I began to remember…

Hoshnak's leering face and cruel hands…

The life-giving sight of light beaming through a window wreathed in darkness…

And the brightness in Legolas' eyes melting away to a dull gleam…

I started up almost involuntarily, as though my body had decided to take orders from a new master that _was not_ the brain reminding me of how painful it was to move. Tensing my neck instantly caused me to feel lightheaded and weak. A spasm of pain shot down my back like a thin knife flicking open a newly-formed wound. Biting my lip, I squeezed my eyes shut with a short gasp.

Letting out a groan, I almost didn't noticed when I felt a gentle hand pushing me back onto the soft pallet I could feel under my legs. But in that instant, I allowed myself to believe that I was back at my grandparents' house and my grandmother was next to me; I was in the bunkhouse, and I'd stayed out too late riding Fara and gotten a cold.

"_Quel amrun, Astaldea_."

I grimaced. My grandmother didn't speak Sindarin.

Wanting to will away reality, I finally allowed my eyes to open.

A very weak image of a pale face loomed into view. I began to see the pointed ears and fair-colored hair. It wasn't Legolas though. Of that I was certain. The green eyes that were staring at me so avidly and the harder outline of a jaw line testified to that. And then I noticed the smirk.

Great. Another smug elf.

Finally, through my aching throat, I managed to speak.

"What?" _Ingenious Iorwen. Already you've managed to convince them you're an idiot_.

His smirk transformed into a smile. "I said good morning."

"No. No. I know _that_ bit. What was it that you called me?" I asked impatiently.

"_Astaldea?" _the rich tones of the elf reminded me of the low humming made by a content cat, "It simply means 'courageous one.'"

I couldn't help but snort. "Save your flattery, elf. I've done nothing to earn such a title." I wanted to close my eyes against this unreal creature that was sweet-talking me so soon after waking. I could remember a similar feeling to this when I used to wake up with a hangover back home and Marian would be bouncing on my bed like a preschooler eager to go to school. This, of course, wasn't quite as intense…

Looking back at this particular moment in time, I am forced to wonder at my own sanity. One would think I'd have been overjoyed at the realization that I'd been saved, but instead I woke up in a bad humor with a rather nasty desire to make someone pay for my pain.

Thus, I was pleased to see that I'd caused him to become taken aback with my last comment. "I would have thought that escaping from the hidden tunnels of the goblins of Emyn Muil might be considered of some consequence? And that is, of course, excluding the fact that it also appears you managed to save the life of the Greenwood prince as well."

At this, my expression softened, and I began to think of my new status with a straighter perception. "How is he?"

The elf frowned. "I shall not lie. He is not as he should be, but he is in capable hands and we shall soon reach the Golden Wood. There, his condition might be reversed. It has been a long time since I've seen such injuries on one of my kin; physical and apparently mentally as well. But fear not, he is being taken care of in the meanwhile by our own healers. They will not abandon him for any reason. But now I must ask _you _a question, Astaldea. Yet, before I do even that, I would have your name…"

Waiting expectantly for my answer, he settled himself comfortably next to me. Sighing, I first examined our surroundings, interested to see where I was first before I became engaged in conversation. It wasn't thick countryside but it certainly wasn't any marshland either. We were under the shade of a tough little tree that seemed to be growing out of the side of a hill. Everywhere I looked, golden grasslands extended. It was still night however, so all I could see beyond that was a grove of trees not far away where there shone some small fires. I accurately concluded that that must be where the rest of the elves were. If it in fact was just a company of elves and no more that had rescued Legolas and I. Overhead, a sky devoid of clouds was pricked with stars that shone like crystals amidst dark dirt. Everything was starkly clear, and I realized that unlike Earth, everything here seemed like it was polished. Even the rough bark of a tree seemed visually clean somehow.

Eyes still trained on the stars above, I spoke out of the corner of my mouth to the elf. "First, before we speak, I would like for you to help me to sit up."

I could practically hear the frown in his voice. "Are you sure, with the injury to your ribs as it is?"

"What injury?" I turned away from the stars and narrowed my eyes on him questioningly.

"You fractured a rib according to our healers."

I groaned. So _that _was why I hurt so bad in my lower back. And now that I thought about it, I could feel the bandage wrapped around my waist. A strangely pungent scent was seeping out of it, and I could only assume that the healers had applied something that would sooth the pain. There was little that could be done for a broken rib. You couldn't set it. I'd have to heal naturally. Oh well.

"I don't care. Just help me up. I can't talk to you when I'm lying down like this."

Sighing, he took my shoulder and--without even asking--reached under my legs and lifted me as though I weighed no more than a bit of paper and set me down so that I could lean against the tree comfortably. There was only a brief moment of pain and then it was over. Surprised and slightly vexed at the same time, I thanked him uncertainly and settled myself as best I could against the rough hide of the tree. "Iorwen."

"Pardon?" He asked.

"My name is Iorwen. And are you going to tell me yours, or am I just going to have to refer to you as elf-boy as I did with Legolas for so long?"

He gave me a winning smile despite my rudeness. "My name is Valandil. And now I have some questions to ask you that are of some interest to myself and my brother both."

"Who's your brother?"

"Patience," he reprimanded, "It is my turn to question now."

Agitated, I folded my arms and waited.

Expression almost instantly fading to somberness, Valandil placed his hands on his thighs and began. "There is much that needs to be revealed. My brother, Finwe, leader of this company, is as curious as I to know the meaning of your imprisonment in that labyrinth. It is also strange to see the prince back. Some of this company can remember a time when reports reached the Golden Wood of the disappearance of Eryn Lasgalen's prince. Lord Thranduil himself rode to each Elvin province seeking news on his son's presence. That was directly after the defeat of the dark lord. Since then it has been nearly three score years and no news had reached us. I had heard that the Mirkwood king eventually began to lose faith. He left word that if ever his son were to appear that he should follow him to the lands of the Valar."

I couldn't believe it. It had been nearly _sixty years _since Legolas' disappearance. I'd been right. Legolas would be devastated. Guilt again washed over me, and I was forced to think of something else. "If all the Elvin rulers have departed then why is it that you and your company still remain here?"

Valandil looked back at the encampment in the grove with a mixed expression that I could not decipher. "We are the few whose hearts do not belong to the sea. There are a few left like us, mostly in the Mirkwood forest, for the elves of Lorien and Rivendell have ever been close to the sea. The wood elves are just that: wood elves. Some still remain so that they may climb their dark trees and drink of their dark rivers. I, personally, have not been there since…" he paused and appeared to be mentally counting, "well, not in a very long age. But we have considered working part of our journey through Eryn Lasgalen in hopes that we might discover a leader capable of commanding such a company of elves as ourselves. My brother Finwe and I wish only to be temporary. We have been hoping to find someone who has the experience and passion for such a job. In the end, it will be up to them to help us determine a permanent place of dwelling. But I am speaking of currently unimportant matters. Please, tell me what I originally set out for. What is your story?"

Well, here was where it got tricky. I didn't know how much I could, should, or would tell Valandil. Would he believe such a fantastical story as mine and Legolas'? It certainly _sounded_ like a load of horse crap, but would another elf take it as so? I knew exactly how a human might react but an elf? That was different all together. He would have to believe it. He knew of the Valar just as Legolas did and so might be aware of their ways. I would have to trust him. So, I began. From the very beginning, right up until the point when I'd seen their appearance in the tunnel entrance. Excluding, of course, a few choice happenings. Mainly conversations between Legolas and myself. There was so much chaos that had happened between us, I wasn't sure I could have related any of it accurately anyway.

When I was finished, Valandil folded his legs and crossed his arms over his chest as I had earlier. "It is an extraordinary tale you have weaved. And I must admit that had I not myself received a vision from the Valar concerning you and the prince, I would be laughing at you right now."

That was news. "You have spoken with the Valar?"

"They spoke with myself and another of my company, Nessa, one of our female archers, explaining that there were others of our kind in need of help in the labyrinth of Emyn Muil. It is not often that the Valar reveal themselves so openly to--even the elves. And to a human…well, that is virtually unheard of. You should consider yourself honored."

I forced myself not to bite back a nasty retort. Honored? I'd become a guinea pig for a bunch of god children who wanted to design some kind of epic romance. Ever since Legolas had dropped off my grandfather's tractor, life had been nothing but a rollercoaster of mostly very-bad emotions. And now Legolas was near death and it was their fault. Because of their strange desire to place us together, Legolas was now fighting for his life. I wasn't going to play so easily as they thought though. I knew I had to get away from the elf prince, and as soon as I saw him restored to his rightful place, I would hightail it off to somewhere where there were no elves and certainly no fellowship members with lives I could help inadvertently destroy. Probably Hobbiton. All the fellowship members there were married off by now, so I should be safe there.

Taking my silence as my desire to sleep(which was mostly correct), Valandil stood and regarded me with a rather worried expression. "Come. You should be back amidst our group now that you are finished speaking with me. My sole reason for bringing you here was to speak with you in peace. It would be foolish, however, to leave you here. And there are elleth who will help you get situated. You have a slight fever as well, but by tomorrow you should be fine as far as internal health goes. Your rib will take some more time to heal. But perhaps then we will have reached the Limlight River. There you may bathe," he smirked, "as I'm sure all the elleth shall wish to do."

Almost overwhelmed with the idea of a bath, I couldn't even protest when Valandil reached down again and lifted me, careful to avoid touching my sensitive side where the rib was located. I noticed him frowning quite fiercely and my curiosity was aroused. "What is the matter?"

He looked me in the eye and I felt myself quaver slightly under his stare as I often did when Legolas turned his own powerful blue orbs on me. "You are far too light. I can feel your ribs through this cloth."

I looked down and was surprised to see that I was in an entirely different set of clothes. Which was good, considering my own had been severely worn out. I could only imagine what I must have looked like when they found me. It was a wonder I hadn't noticed myself upon waking. I wasn't entirely clean, but it was apparent that I'd been at least washed with a wet cloth or something. However, I still smelled like those rank tunnels had. I was suddenly very embarrassed at my smell, my appearance, and even the state of my body. I must have looked like death itself.

Seeing how I lowered my eyes, Valandil quickly looked away and began heading for the encampment. "You must be extremely hungry. Do not worry. Now that you are with us, you shall not be without anything you are in need of."

It didn't take long for us to advance on the camp and soon the sound of laughter reached my ears that was like the tinkling of crystal shards in the breeze. It suddenly occurred to me that I was about to see a group of some of the most commonly known mythological creatures of my world. Only now, _I _was more of a myth than they were. Aside from the orcs, this was to be my first encounter with beings of Middle Earth where I would actually receive a reaction over my appearance and--most importantly--mine and Legolas' story. I couldn't fathom what on earth they would think of me. Suddenly, I was deathly afraid. I wanted to grab Valandil by the ear and yank him back the other direction immediately.

The only elf I'd ever dealt with before was Legolas and now only briefly with Valandil. Elves were not my kind. I was not of theirs. Even just around Legolas himself I felt inferior most of the time. Elves seemed so daunting. And in about every imaginable way possible too. It was their appearance, their speech, and most especially their age. Never was I more aware of my mortality that when I was around an elf. I began to mentally panic, seeking for a way out of this situation. Perhaps I was overreacting, but all the sudden I felt like a little bird caught in the hands of a big dumb human that didn't know the amount of terror he was causing the poor little bird.

But it was too late…

All of the sudden we were in the clearing and 30 pairs of anciently wise eyes were glued on me, analyzing and observing what they saw. Their heavenly voices hushed, their laughter ceased, and suddenly I was a new specimen under the microscope. Never before had I been so surrounded by beings that so perfectly personified the divinity of nature. Their clothes were all of light earthy shades that I was certain camouflaged them perfectly when moving through forested areas. Their hair--every shade from blinding white to midnight black--was long and unfettered for the most part. None of them seemed to have the braids in their hair as Legolas did. I supposed that was a strictly Mirkwood thing.

They were spread out all over the clearing, with even a few in the trees above. Their traveling packs were small and almost all identical, lying near the center of the clearing. A few fires had been started and it was clear they were celebrating something, for I could see deer skin bags of a copper-hued substance being passed around. They acknowledged me with mirthful glimmers in their eyes before beginning to whisper amongst themselves. The sound of it reminded me of the quiet tweeting of birds in the early hours of the morning. They were everything I had suspected them to be, and for that I was terrified of them. Legolas was still a mystery to me, so how was I supposed to understand these creatures of light?

I could feel their attention on me as clearly as an athlete could feel the gaze of his spectators in the stands above. I could only imagine what they thought of me. Hopefully they wouldn't think me a hero. Of all the things I wanted now, that was certainly the last on the list. One might think that everyone desired to be thought a hero, but at that moment all I wanted was to be forgotten so I could escape from Legolas as quickly as possible.

Valandil paused temporarily before heading towards the far corner of the clearing where sat two she-elves, each of them holding small pale wooden bowls filled with some type of soup. Their small, keen eyes were vibrant with color and set into their pale faces like two jewels in the white sands of a beach. They watched me intently, and I was relieved to see that kind smiles were stretching their pink lips wide. The smaller of the two, a slim brunette wearing a light brown tunic with green embroidery, stood and bowed a short greeting to me; followed quickly by the other, a thin blonde with quick green eyes that beamed like beacons.

"Nessa," Valandil bowed to the brunette.

"Earane," he acknowledged, doing likewise to the blonde, "This is Iorwen. I wish for you to see that she is well looked after. There are all kinds of vagabonds hereabouts that would make ill sport of her." I thought I'd misheard him, but the smirk on his face testified to the fact that he'd just made a teasing joke at my expense.

Earane chuckled and nodded her head in assurance, "Fear not, Valandil, we shall watch over her."

Cautiously, Valandil placed me on a pallet similar to the one I'd been sitting on earlier under the tree. I didn't even feel a twinge of pain as he set me there, and I knew it had to be because of that ointment in my bandage. Whatever it was, it was ridding me of what could be some very severe pain. I suddenly felt Valandil's hand on mine consolingly. A little startled, I blinked and found myself drowning in the depths of his azure eyes. He really did look a lot like Legolas.

He appeared solemn. "I did not say it earlier, but I am very sorry for what you endured in those tunnels. I am even more sorry to know that it was because of my company's actions that you and the prince were taken. It is indeed painful to see the wounds inflicted on him, and I promise that we shall do all in our power to draw him out of the darkness he is residing in now. Hopefully you each will be able to heal fully, and in the meantime you have our services."

"I am thankful for it, Valandil," I paused, "Do you think I could see Legolas?"

"It would be better for you now to sit, eat, and then sleep. I hear that mortals need much of it. But I promise you can see the prince in the morning. Right now our healers are still attending to him anyway. Oh--and before I forget--" without a word he loped across the clearing, rummaged around the inside of one of the packs there, and returned before I barely had time to blink. He was carrying something. Squatting down in front of me, he reached out and placed in my lap a now very clean Indian-style blanket and a small wooden box that I'd never seen before.

Delighted, I unfurled my blanket and instantly wrapped it around my shoulders. "Where'd you find it?" I exclaimed in glee.

Valandil shrugged. "It was strange. As we were leaving the crags of Emyn Muil I spotted that blanket and the little box perched atop it so perfectly. I'm not sure how, but somehow I knew they belonged to you and the prince, so I picked it up and placed it in my pack."

"This little box, too?" I lifted it up and peered at it uncertainly. I'd never see Legolas with it before. I couldn't fathom where he might have carried it.

"Yes. Why?"

"I've never seen it before." I reached for the lid, but just as I was about to open it, a queasy feeling came over me and suddenly I was not so eager to see what was inside. Completely daunted by the plain little box, I carefully set it down next to me and looked away, trying to forget the cold feeling that had wrapped its fingers around me like the frigid tendrils of a northern wind. "Again, thank you, Valandil. I appreciate it."

Giving me a winning smile, Valandil quickly dispersed and went to set himself next to another elf that looked almost exactly like him except for having dark brown hair. I assumed it was his brother Finwe and watched as the two conversed animatedly. I saw them look in my direction, but before Finwe could get up and come over to me, Valandil pushed him back down and gave him some type of explanatory spiel.

I was shaken out of my musings when a soft hand touched my shoulder and I spun to see Nessa kneeling before me holding a bowl of soup like the kind she and Earane had been eating. "Here," she handed it to me, "drink up. It's thick and will make you feel much better--not to mention drowsy." She smiled and I had to smile back.

Her and Earane were positively giddy it seemed, and I couldn't help but find them enchanting for their optimistic grins. But they also seemed to realize my need for personal space at the moment and so quickly moved away to give me room. The soup _was _thick and more than filling. There wasn't anything familiar about it though that I could place, save for the familiar crunch of some sweet onions in it. So, feeling better than I had in a whole month, I finished off the soup and laid down on the surprisingly comfortable pallet, covered myself with my blanket that still smelled of my bed back in Atlanta, and drifted into a world of dreams entirely populated with beautiful creatures that had pointed ears and angelic voices.

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:Long overdue. Yes, I know. I won't make any excuses. I'll just say sorry. Please review though! I promise I still love ya'll!

-MusicalCharlatan


	27. The Death of A Normal Life

_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter Twenty-Seven-- The Death of A "Normal" Life

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_Legolas POV_

"_Awake, strange little angel. Rise to greet a new day…"_

_I opened my eyes and stared blearily into the waving foliage above my head. Streaks of red and orange fell through the openings in the trees and cascaded down to the forest floor like spilled paint and lit the forest with an ethereal rosy glow. I felt like I was in Valandil. Though I'd never actually seen it, this was how my ancestors had described it. _

_Sitting next to me, a pale-skinned apparition placed her hand on my forehead and stroked my hair back. _

"_Nani?"_

_She smiled at me and continued stroking her fingers through my hair as though I'd not spoken. _

_I could scarcely believe that she had returned to me. "I thought you'd left me," I felt tears in my eyes and despite my pride I could not hold them in, "I was so afraid. I fell asleep here under the trees. It was all I knew to do."_

_She shushed me and continued to stroke my hair, "Lle ume quell. Lle ume quell." (You did well)_

_The soft, subtle touches of her fingers began to lull me back behind my gossamer curtain of sleep. And there I rested, nestled in amidst the roots of noble trees and under the drowsy lullaby of the sun._

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_Iorwen POV_

When I awoke, there appeared to be no sign of the elves anywhere. For a moment, I considered that I had imagined them as well. But it was not long before I saw that I was not the only one left in the clearing. The she-elf from last night, Earane was sitting next to me--out of my original line of sight--weaving a string of dried flowers into a straw-made basket. I watched her work for a while, marveling at the quick subtleness of her Elvin fingers as they deftly wove a new creation. "What is it for?"

Not lifting her eyes, she replied, "I have a little sister in Lothlorien that is skilled in the art of healing. I am hoping she might find use for such a little basket in her practices. Have you a sister, _Astaldea?_"

I blanched and looked away. "No."

I could feel her doubtful look on my face, but the she-elf said nothing. Making the finishing touches on her basket, she laid it down next to me and gave it a grim smile. She seemed noticeably more…humble than she had last night.

"Where are the others?" I asked, examining the empty camp. All I could see was an empty grove.

Earane scanned the clearing as well and answered, "Now that we are out of the reach of the goblins, we desire time to know this place. It has been a long time since the elves have felt safe in places so close to the shadow of Mordor. But now that it has indeed been defeated, we seek time to reacquaint ourselves with Middle Earth. Unlike those across the sea, this company is almost utterly bound to this land." She looked down on me, "We would never leave it if we had the choice."

For some reason disturbed by her last statement, I looked away and tried to sit up. I found it immeasurably easier than it had been yesterday, but not completely without pain. Gritting my teeth, and surprised by the fact that Earane made no move to stop me, I sat up and gave her an appraising look. "So, then…when will they return?"

"Soon." Standing up, Earane marched away until she'd reached one of the packs in the center of the clearing before returning to me. Reaching down, she helped me to stand before nodding her head in the direction of the rising sun. "I thought you might appreciate a chance to wash?"

I nodded in affirmation, but my thoughts almost instantly turned to a more important matter. "Where's Legolas?"

Earane turned her extraordinary eyes on me, and for a moment I was almost certain I saw surprise within their depths, but before I could confirm it--the emotion had vanished. "They have taken him with them. It is good for him to be in the midst of such a ceremony. It will help to speed his recovery. He may not be awake, but his spirit is very aware of his state."

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About a mile out from the camp, a thin stream meandered through the plains of Wold. It took Earane and I a good 15 minutes to reach it, due to my condition, but once I was there I knew it had been worth the effort.

Glad for the heat of the sun, I stripped down and slid into the gentle current of the river, trying to ignore the initial freezing condition of the water. Earane, sitting on the banks, handed me a horse-hair brush and two little vials. The first for my hair and the second for my sensitive skin.

The combined feeling of the water and the strange-scented soaps was enough to make me feel like I was in Heaven. Using my calloused fingers, I carefully scrubbed away all the weeks of grime that I'd been accumulating, rubbing so hard my skin turned an agitated pink. When I was finally satisfied with my state, Earane tossed me a blanket that was apparently especially absorbent and used as a towel. I saw her give me an amused smirk as I surfaced. "What is it?" I asked, tucking in the towel around my chest.

"I've never seen a mortal so obsessed with cleanliness before. Even I do not scrub myself so thoroughly as you just did. It is refreshing to see a human bent on some type of hygiene."

I frowned. "Believe me, anybody who just went through what I did would have done the same thing; even a _mortal."_ I cringed at the word as I had the first time I'd heard Legolas use it.

Earane noticed my displeasure. "You find that term distasteful?"

I scoffed and turned my attention to the fresh clothes she was handing to me. "Well, it's not exactly a pleasure to hear. No."

"But it is true."

"That doesn't make it any less painful to be reminded of. Humans are never glad to be reminded of how short their lives are. We are already starkly aware of it."

Placing the fresh clothes on some clear ground, I turned my attention to my underwear that I fully intended to keep using if I could. I gave Earane an odd glance before finally willing myself to ask, "Do elves use any type of…uh-undergarments?"

Earane returned my look with an equally puzzled look so that I was obliged to continue.

"Uh…just anything ya'll wear _under_ your outer clothes?"

"Well, of course we do wear layers, but only during the winter."

Realizing she had virtually no idea of what I was speaking about, I sighed and returned my attention to my own underwear and bra before going to the river side and proceeding to wash them as best I could with the soaps she'd provided. I could feel Earane's quizzical expression on my back as I worked but she said nothing. And when I was finally pleased with the rather pitiful but clean state of my undergarments I then continued happily with my dressing process.

The outfit she'd provided me with was both beautiful and functional. There was a kind of undergarment I discovered, but it was really only a strange--under-tunic was really the only term I could think of to describe it--made up of the lightest material I'd ever had the pleasure of touching and a dark green riding dress with splits on the sides for easy leg movement and stretching while on a horse. It had a large scoop neck with intricate designs all about the neck in a silver thread. The dress was a little tight due to the fact that it had belonged to one of the she-elves in the company who had donated it to me. And all the she-elves seemed at least a few sizes small next to my frame, which in truth was something I hadn't really experienced in a long time. I'd always had a slender frame--one that I was proud of. Now I felt a bit like a cow among thoroughbreds. Although I _was_ pleased to see that one of the areas where the dress was tight was around my chest.

Next came a silver girdle that--to me--was absolutely amazing to behold. It wove around my waist in a thick branch-like way that reminded me of the English ivy that used to climb all over my house as a child. Earane then gave me a very lightweight cloak that fell like silky hair through my fingers. It was a strange color that moved between the hues of brown and green like the waters of a dark lake. Earane told me that I should be honored to have been gifted such a cloak since it was one of the remaining articles gifted to them by the elves of Rivendell before their departure to Valandil. I held the cloak as one might hold an ancient alien relic, terribly aware of their own separation from such a magnificent and strange world. Finally, she handed me a pair of suede boots similar to her own that were a light forest green color. I thought they were not terribly unlike the Indian moccasins I'd heard so much about back home. They were very comfortable and made hardly a sound when I walked in them, though I still sounded like a bull in a china closet compared to Earane who hardly seemed to touch the ground when she walked.

Once I was completely dressed, Earane made me sit down in front of her while she plaited my hair in a way that would be comfortable for travel. She made complimentary cooing noises over my hair as she stroked it and manipulated it. "It is so unlike any of the elves' hair. It is heavier and the color reminds me of the bark of the _mallorn_ tree in Lothlorien."

"I would like to see that." I said quietly as she folded another piece of hair. Quickly tying it off with a subtle piece of leather that tied just like string, Earane completed the long braid and threw the end over my shoulder.

"Finished. Now we must return. The company should be returning soon if they are not already there."

Once back at the campsite, we observed that the elves had indeed returned. I could hear the quick, efficient sounds of gear being packed-up and horses made ready. It was nearing noon now and it was past time to set off. As Earane and I entered, Valandil quickly spotted us and made his way to me. "Feeling better?" he asked.

I nodded and smiled appreciatively at Earane who smiled in return and bowed in respect to Valandil.

"And you look absolutely stunning." To my own disgust I blushed as Valandil gave me a warm grin and glanced briefly behind him towards his brother, ignoring my embarrassment.

"We are hopeful to reach the river Limlight before sundown today if we go with all haste. We shall cross it tomorrow and then enter Lorien by the river Nimrodel. There, the healers of Lothlorien will give aid to our ill prince. There is no doubt within me that they will make all right."

"Thank you, Valandil. I could not have hoped for more. In fact, I had dared hope for anything." Valandil's grim expression matched my own.

Earane interrupted the silence. "Let us not dwell on such matters. It is all over with now, is it not? Let us prepare you a horse, Iorwen."

At these words, my dark mood almost instantly lifted. It seemed like it had been a long time since last I'd ridden a horse. The day I'd found Legolas--months ago now. Had it really been so long ago?

Taking the initiative, Valandil seized my wrist and brought me towards the opposite end of the clearing where three rider less horses stood. They were not tethered. But for my purposes, one of the animals had been geared with a very light set of reins that were completely without a bit. Next to me, Valandil explained, "Unlike a human's horse, our horses know us quite well and do not need the same restraints. Nor will they allow any decent rider to fall. They are the epitome of loyal to us. This set of reins was quickly constructed last night for you. I can have a kind of crude saddle brought as well, if you so wish…"

I shook my head. "No," walking forward to the horse, a gorgeous blue roan with clear intelligent eyes, I stroked his cheek and allowed him to smell my hands in a kind of greeting, "No, I don't need any saddle. I've ridden bareback most of all. I can do it now. What is his name?"

Valandil smiled and lifted the reins from where they had been thrown across the limb of a tree and handed them to me. "His name is _Beriadan. _It means 'Defender of Men.' Some of the soldiers thought it was rather ironic and funny. I agree."

I chuckled and before I even knew what was happening, Valandil had lifted me up yet again as he had the night before and with minimal effort placed me on top of the horse who shifted slowly to determine my weight. Giving Valandil an exasperated look, I took the reins he handed me and settled back on the horse. "Where is Legolas?" I asked, scanning the clearing.

"Come, I shall take you to him."

Touching the horse's head lightly, Valandil spoke a few words to him before walking away. I was about to call out to him when I realized the roan was following. Shutting my mouth dumbly, I waited as we came out of the clearing and approached a small group of elves that had already been assembled. At the end of their group were two elves holding a stretcher. Valandil approached them swiftly and the elves bowed their head in respect as he approached. "His condition, friends?"

The elf at Legolas' head spoke quietly as he answered the question but looked at me. "His condition is still rather unclear to us. But he is stable and appears to be gaining back life. Though we are still concerned over the fact that his eyelids have not yet opened in their sleep."

Legolas looked much improved since I'd last seen him, but his skin was still sallow and he looked like he hadn't eaten substantially in weeks, which in truth was quite true. They'd sponged off most of the dirt and cleaned him up, and I was very thankful for it. But yet…I still felt that same tinge of guilt as I looked at him. The same word was moving back in forth in my mind: _murderer_.

I brought the roan forward and quickly dismounted, dropping the reins to the ground as I did so and forgetting the presence of the other elves. Kneeling down next to the stretcher, I took out the little box that Valandil had returned to me and held it up so that if Legolas were awake he could see it clearly.

"Listen to me, Mr. Eros," I could practically hear the questioning crick of the elves' necks as they looked at each other in confusion, "This isn't mine. This is yours. And I'm not going to open it up. It's going to stay closed until you see fit to wake up, so hurry along with it, will ya? Cause I'm rather curious as to what's inside, truth be told. I've also got some things to discuss with you." Realizing that tears were accumulating behind my eyes, I quickly stowed the little box back in my belt before standing.

I looked to Valandil who nodded and lifted me back onto the horse again in the same painless fashion before turning back to the elves with the stretcher. I didn't hear what he said to them, because I was already urging the horse forward to the edge of the tree line where I knew Earane would have to be emerging from soon. When Valandil was done speaking he walked over to the side of Beriadan and began to stroke his neck. It was quiet for a while, and I waited patiently for the question that I knew would eventually come.

"You and the prince…" his hand paused on the neck of the horse before flicking a stray piece of the mane over to the other side of the horse's neck, "You have known him for quite some time now by human standards. And your tale is a strange one…almost unbelievable. I wonder if you know what it will mean to the elves that you have brought back one of their princes…seemingly from the dead? The elves here see you as an anomaly. You are utterly unlike any of the mortals we have seen before. But when they come to know of yours and Legolas' story, well….you may be considered a vessel of the Valar's seamless purposes…or not at all. There is no knowing how the remaining elves will regard you. I believe everything you have told me. I have no reason to doubt it, for the Valar addressed myself and Nessa personally. And I think that my testimony and hers should be enough to stifle any kind of doubt, but the question is…what do you plan to do here in this new world, Iorwen? Will you try to live among the elves? I've no doubt that they would have you, but I think that it might be a difficult existence. And the humans here--I think they are much different from the ones you have described to me. I wonder if you would understand the ones here as you think you understand the ones from your time… You are more like the elves than I think you realize. You have been through much and seen much. And I do not think you will ever return to "normal" life. I believe that the Valar have a purpose for you here and they will do whatever they can to see that it is achieved…"

A foreboding warning rang within me at the those words and I shook my head resolutely. "No. I think I know what the Valar want of me, but it wouldn't work. Once Legolas is recovered, I will leave. I might go to Hobbiton. Or I'll visit Gondor…." I placed determined eyes on Valandil, ones that left no room for question, "but I will not stay with Legolas. I've caused enough trouble around him. I will not allow myself to remain in a position that will only cause grief, for him _and _for me." I tried not to contemplate what it would be like to die old and decrepit next to a person who had no concept of time.

Valandil stared dismally at me. "So be it."

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:Well, there's a pretty substantial chapter for you guys. Hope you all enjoy. And I'm very sorry for the delay, but SCHOOLS ALMOST OUT! So be prepared for some serious writing.

-MusicalCharlatan


	28. Wandering on the Edge of a Dream

_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter Twenty-Eight--Wandering on the Edge of a Dream

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_Legolas POV_

_It was like wandering on the edge of a dream. But maybe that was just it…this was a dream. Standing on the pier, looking out to the golden horizon line, I watched as she alighted the light vessel that would carry her out to sea and away from me forever. There was no grief or tears, only an aching that continued to remind me that I would not see her again for a very long time, and for an elf--that was a long time indeed. _

_For a moment, she hesitated on the edge of the boat, and then--lifting her head high--she descended quickly to come stand before my father who was at my side. I saw her trembling hand reach up and caress my father's face slowly as though memorizing his features for a later date. _

"_You understand why this must be, Thranduil?" Her pale face was flushed with the radiance of the sun and at the same time the dismal heaviness of rain-bearing clouds. _

_My father lowered his eyes for what I was sure must have been the first time in his life and took her other hand. He kissed it swiftly and placed it against his chest. "No. No, I do not."_

_She started to cry then. I rushed to wrap my arms around her legs, for suddenly I felt the grief that I knew I should be experiencing. This was what it meant to love and to lose. I felt her hands grasp my head and pull me to herself. Then, far sooner than I wished, she pulled away and looked down on me with watery eyes. "It's all up to you now, my little Greenleaf. You must help take care of Eryn Lasgalen."_

_Within myself, I despaired. "But I cannot."_

_Kneeling in front of me, she parted strands of hair on either side of my face and began to weave them in the intricate pattern of our full-grown males.1 When she was done with either one, she then turned me around and wove them together in a thicker braid down the back of my head. Finished, she turned me about and cupped my face with her hands before lightly kissing my forehead. "Now, Legolas…now, you will do well."_

_Surprised and thrilled with her actions, I could only watch dumbly as she stood, looked once at my father and then once again mounted the vessel. We watched the boat until it was no longer visible and had disappeared on the horizon line, and when I turned to return home my father had tears in his eyes._

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_Iorwen POV_

The River Limlight was swift and wide but it was also shallow. Most of the elves were able to easily cross. Legolas, though, had to be brought across at a safer part further down the river. My crossing was easy enough, but that was partially due to the fact that Valandil kept his eye on me the entire time and when my horse began to lose his footing on the rocky bottom, he managed to steady him using his own mount.

Once crossed, the Limlight looked far less ferocious than it had before and I was feeling much renewed, if but a little wet. We had to wait a good ten minutes though before the elves bearing Legolas and their small host arrived at our position further upstream. Once reassembled though, we made magnificent time. Most of the elves were on foot, but they were just as swift as any of the horses and I soon discovered that I was the only one who really needed one. Even Valandil walked beside his horse for the majority of the trip. So, feeling thoroughly displaced, I fell to the back of the group and rode alongside Legolas, occasionally stealing glances at his sad form and wishing more than anything else to hear him speak and see him well again. I wanted Marian there alongside me more than I ever had before. I wanted her comforting presence. I hadn't realized how much I would miss her, and now, amidst all these strange foreign creatures, I felt like a complete outsider who truly needed to be returned to where she came.

My anger at the Valar bloomed and I realized that I was practically squeezing the life out of Beriadan's reins. What right did they think they had to rip me out of my own life and place me in such unfamiliar territory? What made them think I would eventually become used to this? I was doomed to die in a world that I would never understand, with people I didn't understand, with a life I didn't understand, and no hope of ever righting myself. I was completely and utterly alone.

Nessa gave me a small smile and pointed ahead, "We are entering the forest now."

Forgetting my own self-pity, I looked ahead and felt a wave of awe wash over me. Lothlorien.

There it was. Directly ahead of me. Just like in the books.

It was just so…real, though. I was living Lord of the Rings. And ahead of me, in all its fantastical glory, was Lothlorien where the fellowship had once passed, where Lady Galadriel had once dwelled, and where one of the most ancient races of middle earth had spent countless years.

The trees towered overhead like veritable skyscrapers, their thick branches touching each other affectionately like close relatives. As we came nearer, I saw that most of the tree trunks were too large for three full-grown men to wrap their arms around. And their bark was exquisite. I was suddenly very honored to have had my hair compared to the bark of the _mallorn_ trees, for they were unlike any tree I'd ever seen. Their golden-brown skin practically shone in the light of the sun overhead and glowed like the tan skin of a human.

The elves passed through the trees slowly like the steady-moving waters of a river around smooth rocks, admiring their mightiness and brushing them appreciatively with their white fingertips. I found myself wishing I had a camera, for the scene I was witnessing was probably the most beautiful interaction of nature and sentient species I had ever seen. I wondered if maybe the elves were talking to the trees. I vaguely remembered something about that in the books; one of those little facts that got lost in the overall plotline of the books.

Overcome with the emotion in the atmosphere emitted by the elves and possibly even the trees, I laid back on Beriadan and watched the passing of the trees' canopy overhead, examining the way the light spilled through the leaves and branches.

When I opened my eyes again, I realized that I had fallen asleep. I could not in fact remember having actually drifted off, but the fuzziness in my head and the aching of my back quickly informed me that I'd just spent several hours asleep on the back of a horse. I sat up too quickly and reeled slightly left. A hand quickly righted me before I was able to slip off, though, and I looked down to see Valandil give me a reassuring grin. He gave me a short nod and pointed ahead, "You have perfect timing, _Astaldea_. We have arrived."

"What?" Turning forward, I felt my jaw drop slightly as we neared the most massive tree I'd ever seen. A white staircase wrapped itself around the tree all the way to the top and blue lights seemed to glow from every area of the copse. All about us, glittering pools of water blinked with silver lights and white-skinned elves seemed to appear as though from nowhere, emerging from behind thick foliage and coming to stand next to our procession. Several of said elves took our horses and a few more quickly assessed Legolas' condition and whisked him away. I watched them march off into the woods until nature's shadows prevented me from seeing more. Valandil followed my line of sight and put a consoling hand on my shoulder before pulling me lightly towards the massive tree in the center of the copse.

"Come. The elders of the golden wood have afforded us safe haven and care. You may see the prince tomorrow when he is no doubt returning to health," he then pointed at the main tree, "That was once the dwelling place of the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn. Now it is as vacant as Eryn Lasgalen. It pains the Lorien elves to see the home of their lords so empty. No one dares go near it; not till a new leader is decided upon."

I looked gravely at the tree, inwardly disappointed to know that I'd never get to meet Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn. They had to have been more than legend. But inside I was slightly confused. Turning quickly to Valandil, I gave him a questioning look. "Did the lord and lady not have any heir?"

Valandil looked at me oddly, as though just then remembering that I had in fact not been in Middle Earth my whole life and all this was news to me. "Well, after the Lady left, the Lord Celeborn went to Imladris and there dwelled with the only true successors to his realm: the Sons of Elrond. But the sons would not stay. They followed their father before them, and it was at that time that the Lord Celeborn departed as well. The only other heir would be their sister, Arwen, Evenstar of Imladris, but she is ruler alongside King Aragorn in Gondor."

"Yeah, yeah. I know." I said, absentmindedly waving off further explanation.

"You do?" he questioned, one blonde eyebrow rising elegantly.

"Yeah…" I rummaged through my memory, "Didn't I tell you? Lord of the Rings is a book series where I come from. I know most everything there is to know about Middle Earth. I can't remember a whole lot about the ending though."

Valandil nodded, "Now that you mention it, you did say something to that effect. I suppose that at the time I just did not really consider it. It must have somehow seemed significant in the midst of everything else that was taking place."

I looked at him, slightly incredulous. "You _are_ a strange one, Valandil. Oh--I guess I should call you Lord Valandil or something like that…"

Valandil shook his head, "I'm not a lord by any standards. Simply Valandil will do just fine."

I smiled and gave him a slow nod, "Okay….Valandil. I guess I'll just find Nessa and Earane…" I started to walk away, but was halted by the suddenness of his voice.

"Wait."

I turned around, surprised and confused. "What is it?"

Valandil took a slightly uncertain step towards me. "Well…I was wondering if you might like to take a walk. After all, we're liable to be here a while, and it would be beneficial for you to know this new area…"

I was slightly stupefied. "You mean, like…a tour?"

Valandil looked sort of abashed and opened his mouth slightly in explanation. I cut him off. "Alright."

At my acceptance, he smiled and put his hand out. I took it and he held it aloft as we went down a set of steps leading down to a large pool near the base of another great tree. The moon overhead sent slants of silvery-blue light through the trees, and I thought to myself—for what must have been the thirtieth time that day—that all of this was like wandering on the edge of a dream.

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: Forgive the delay….yet again. At any rate, people, please review. My response was rather dismal last time. I understand that sometimes I take forever to review, but it's always a little disheartening when nobody really reviews.

1 I fully admit, I have no idea whether this has any Tolkien truth to it. It's just something I have conjured for my purposes. I thought I heard it somewhere and now I'm running with the idea where I will.


	29. Ancient Forest of Goodbyes

_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter Twenty-Nine—Ancient Forest of Goodbyes

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_Iorwen POV_

Well, if the entrance to Lothlorien was impressive then its "interior" was even more so, but in a much more simplistic way. The entire society of Lorien was built with the express intention of combining beauty with natural architecture. The homes of the elves, tree houses of varying size and style, were worked around the trees and not through them as was common back on my world. Of course, we humans weren't often graceful or patient enough to spend such effort working our way of life _through _nature rather than _against_ it. But then again, I also didn't think we'd had quite as much time to attempt to do that.

The timelessness, wisdom, and incomprehensible abilities of the elves were starkly evident in the way their sparse construction navigated its way through the forest like a river meandering along a downward slope. I found myself staring upward like an excited child visiting a theme park for the first time as Valandil and I walked along the much-trodden path working its way through the trees. As we walked, the faintest sound of ethereal singing drifted through the woods like the quiet murmur of a music box being played from a distant room. I tried to discern the words as they passed through the mallorn trees, but knew inwardly that it was a foolish attempt. The words were probably of the ancient high language of the elves: Quenya. Despite myself, however, I wanted to know what the meaning of the melodic verses was, so I of course asked my Elvin guide. Valandil was more than happy to comply. Smiling warmly at the canopy of the mallorn trees, Valandil explained as he listened to the deep yet peaceful sound of voices raised to the air.

"You will be pleased to know, _Astaldea_," he said, glancing at me momentarily and squeezing my hand, "that my kindred rejoice. They rejoice because one that was assumed dead is now among us again and soon to be well."

My heart swelled from the surety of Valandil's words, "You mean Legolas is definitely going to be okay?"

Valandil nodded, "Our kind is resilient, and we do not often give up even when we have been stricken down without mercy."

I nodded in agreement, thinking of a time that seemed millennia ago when a desperate fictional creature had placed a kitchen knife against my throat.

"Know also," Valandil continued, "That they sing of hope over the favor of the Valar. For years the elves have feared the reproach of our creators, but now with the testament of our company they believe that they may yet regain their trust and goodwill. They sing of you and the prince—of the hope your presence has brought."

"What?" I blanched considerably, surprising Valandil so that we stopped on the path, "Wait up. No. I told you, Valandil. I am nothing special. Me being here is a very bad and costly mistake. I have screwed up everything. I'm better off back where I was in Atlanta with _my_ people. I am NOT happy to be here. Well, wait—that's not strictly correct…sure, I like being here, but I know this can't be right. The Valar are playing around with me like I'm some cut-out puppet and I'm tired of it. I don't know what they want of me, but I'm through. I did what I told Legolas I was going to do and now I'm going to go before I mess things up even more."

"What do you mean 'mess things up'?" Valandil's expression was mottled with anxiety and confusion, "From what I have witnessed, you've done nothing but good things since you have arrived. I do not pretend to understand your purpose here anymore than you do, but I do know that the creators would never "play" around with you and the prince as you suggest. They must have some reason for your being here, of this I am sure."

His words came out almost in a gust, as though he was in a hurry to get them out; a hurry to make me see what it was what he was trying to say. But I couldn't. I was so tired of being like a fish out of water. I didn't care how powerful of a deity you are, you don't take people from their home, throw them instantly into captivity, and then play with their emotions like they're nothing more than prettiful colored acrylic paints. And there was one thing I did know, me + Legolas equaled temptation for the Valar god children. Thus, there was no way I was going to help them along with whatever perverse plan they had going. I was leaving and soon, too.

"I'm sorry, Valandil," I said, looking into his eyes and trying desperately to show him that I meant the words. "But I've got to find a way to fix all this. Somebody up on one of those thrones messed up. I'm sure of it. I'm not a heroine. I don't belong in this fairytale. I don't know who in the hell the Valar are trying to please with this charade, but I'm ending it before things get out of hand."

Valandil shook his head in confusion, "I do not understand your trepidation, Iorwen. If anything, it seems to me the creators are only trying to bless you."

"Bless me? With what?!" I snapped the words out a little harsher than I'd meant to, but Valandil only eyed me with a strange look that made me both uneasy and hopeful.

"An opportunity…a chance…" he said.

I felt myself quaver from the way he let the words slip out so smoothly and with such…implications in them that I wanted to look away in shame. Again, I heard my voice choke out, "For what?"

"A different life from what so many of your kind are doomed to. Do you feel no gratitude? No desire to take advantage of such an inimitable gift?"

Gift? That was certainly one way of looking at it. But all I had to do was think back to the terror that had beset me at just _seeing_ the entrance to the tunnel that burrowed into Emyn Muil and all my mixed feelings were sorted.

"Legolas almost _died_," I stressed to him, my eyes narrowing in anger, "I almost lost my mind in that hole. No, Valandil. I'm through here. Tomorrow morning—once I'm sure Legolas is on the road to recovery, I'm leaving. Thank you for everything you and your brother and the other elves have done for me and Legolas. You'll never know how much I appreciated it. All that I ask now is that you give me access to provisions to take when I go on my way and that you take care of Legolas."

If Valandil hadn't been an elf, I was sure his mouth would have been hanging open. As it was, he looked stricken speechless and dumb. "You mean to go away…on your own?" He rasped—yes, _rasped_ out.

"Well, since I don't have much of a real destination anyway, I figure I don't have to really worry about getting lost. And it seems that most everything evil on Middle Earth has been driven into hiding or has been destroyed, so I don't guess I have a lot to worry about in that department. Not to mention, I'm used to being a loner. But if I die, there's no real loss anyway. Hell—so much the better! Maybe I'll get sent back to my world. The important thing is that I'm away from Legolas. I'm nothing but a potential threat to him, and my presence elsewhere in Middle Earth doesn't have much of a point, so I guess I'm just going to have to either find a way home or figure out what the hell I should do with myself."

Valandil shook his head, a heavy scowl marring his features, "You are foolish if you believe Legolas will not follow you."

I scoffed, "Why the hell should he care if I leave? I ruined his life. His father's gone now and all he has left is a weak, pathetic, trivial human girl."

Valandil must have been able to hear the hurt and resentment in my voice, for he finally let go of my hand that we'd unconsciously kept holding onto and placed it on my cheek affectionately. I was surprised, needless to say, and more than a little apprehensive as his eyes bore their way into my own. I could see him trying to work through my barriers; to break down the walls that I was quickly erecting between my expression and his own. "Is that what he told you? Is that what all of this is about? You think he blames you for losing his father and his tie to this world?"

I gulped down the tears that threatened to spill at the reminder of Legolas' hideous words back in the cell and shrugged off his comforting hand. "I don't think, I _know_. He wasn't really aware of what he was saying at the time, but his subconscious made it clear how he felt about all of it. The Valar—for some odd reasons of their own—want us together, and it's because of this they plopped Legolas in my time and then whirled around and placed us both back here. I can't understand any of it, and I'm tired of trying to decipher what it means. I just want it to stop."

Valandil sighed, "_Astaldea_, you must not make such conclusions based off what the prince's troubled and quite possibly feverish mind caused him to say. His words hurt you, I see that. But you are in no way trivial or negligible to his life or the life of any others here for that matter. And—I am certain—the prince would tell you this himself if he were awake."

I shook my head, "I don't plan on being around long enough for him to tell me anything. Now, please, Valandil, if you would, take me to where I'm supposed to be staying tonight."

In an almost sulky manner, Valandil complied with a short nod of his head and took me further back along the path until he reached a tree with a staircase wrapped around its trunk. Nearly thirty feet up, a white house built from smooth-skinned wood that looked like bone was wrapped around the trunk, several walkways branching off this particular tree to meet with similar households in the others. Valandil motioned to the staircase and placed a hand on my shoulder as I made to ascend.

"Please, Iorwen, tonight take some time to consider your actions. Things may not be so simple as you assume them to be. And, even more than that, I think you should think about the words the prince said and relate them to his actions. If they do not match up, then I think you should reconsider this entirely. I highly doubt he meant those words. And I would doubt them even more if I knew that he had done things that seemed to contradict their sincerity. You seemed eager enough to save his life, so I must believe that he never did you any true wrong, did he?"

Clenching the railing of the stair that I'd grabbed in my haste to be away from Valandil, I thought about what he was saying and knew within myself that he was right. Legolas had shown on more than one occasion that he appreciated me. But, still…it didn't make sense. None of it did. I was just a human. And he was an elf. Nothing would ever change that. No matter how much we cared for each other. It was all a silly idea.

"If it's not too much trouble, Valandil," I said weakly, my voice barely above a whisper, "Could you make it clear to our hosts that I will be in need of traveling supplies by sunrise tomorrow morning? Tell them I mean no disrespect in leaving so early, but I have matters to attend to."

And with that, I whisked up the stairs, trying my best not to think about how Valandil's eyes had lost some of their light when I made it clear without actually saying it that I would probably never see him again.

The next morning, I left before even the elves were awake. I stole out of the "tree house" and found a bundle of provisions waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. To my even greater surprise and delight, Beriadan was there as well, a note attached to his reins.

_He is yours. May he protect you as his namesake suggests. He is no elf guide, but he knows these lands. Let him lead you._

_Peace be with you, Astaldea. _

I didn't need a signature to know who wrote it. Shouldering the pack, I mounted Beriadan using a nearby stump and I quickly whispered Legolas' name to my mount. Almost immediately, Beriadan turned and began his way through the woods, picking his way lightly through the beautiful terrain. As I expected, about five minutes later, a round clearing came into view. A simple almost tabernacle-like building morphed up out of the clearing. It sprung from the ground like a natural formation, running along the natural shapes of the earth and allowing sunlight to come through in areas of its ceiling that were weaved across like thread.

I could see storage holds of herbs and other natural aids for the sick under the roof and near that was one elf wearing a short green tunic and no shoes. Her eyes were violet and sparkled when she turned to greet me.

"A visitor?" she mused, giving me an endearing smile, "I suppose I shall have to wake him."

"No." I said, a little too quickly causing her to blink at me in astonishment. "No," I repeated, "I just wanted to say goodbye."

Dismounting from Beriadan, I made my way to the side of the Elvin prince lying on a low platform covered in a down pallet. His expression was serene and it was to my utter delight that I saw his clear eyes were open yet again in sleep. He looked magnificent and I was so glad to see that I had not in fact utterly destroyed the painting after all. I wanted to sit down next to him and wait for him to wake up, but I knew I couldn't do that. There were too many things preventing me from allowing myself to be with him.

But not able to resist entirely, I sat next to him and reached out tentatively to touch his face. Forgetting about the nurse, I traced his skin as I once had right before my arrival in this place. I touched his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, his lips, even the tender skin above his eyes. I wanted to remember everything about him. It suddenly occurred to me that this might be the last time I would ever see him if all went as planned. Unable to resist myself, I leaned down and placed a lingering kiss on his thin pale lips that --even unresponsive as he was--caused my heart to skip a beat and pound against my chest like a caged animal. A tear managed to roll down my nose and I wiped it away before it could drip onto his face. "Goodbye, Mr. Eros."

Knowing that if I delayed any longer I'd never leave, I stood hastily and brushed away any signs of my sadness and the terror that suddenly plagued me. I turned to leave and noticed that the nurse, as a sign of respect, had turned her face away from my obvious display of affection. She looked up at me and gave me a reassuring nod. "Time can heal if you'll let it."

Trying to ignore her cryptic yet obvious words, I turned and fled from the tabernacle, mounting Beriadan quicker than I'd ever mounted a horse, then bid him depart from Lothlorien, Ancient Forest of Goodbyes.

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: Long time coming, but next chapter I promise some Legolas action. God knows he hasn't been up to much lately, but that's about to change.

-MusicalCharlatan


	30. Bad First Impressions

_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter Thirty—Bad First Impressions

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_Legolas POV_

The first thing I became aware of was the silence. For ages it had seemed that the only thing I would ever hear was the sound of my own thoughts. But then suddenly everything went quiet. It was the most welcome thing I'd ever heard. For a while I allowed myself to just relish in the vacuum, free from cares, pain, and the burden of my consciousness. But then almost as soon as it came, it left, leaving behind foreign yet strangely familiar sensations. I could feel the passing of air over my face, the incessant twittering of birds, the thrum and pulse of blood in my veins. It was then that I had my epiphany.

I was awake.

My eyes—though already open—slowly cleared to allow my vision through. Overhead, a latticework of wood allowed scant sunlight through, scattering the rays over my body and warming my skin through the fabric of my tunic. The warmth was absolutely amazing. I couldn't remember ever having felt so warm. I could remember the cold. I remembered feeling frigid and stiff, and I remembered the darkness that had accompanied these feelings. I slowly began to become conscious of my situation. I had been very sick. I had been in captivity. Iorwen and I had been in captivity. But we escaped…we must have. The last thing I could remember was leaning against the tunnel wall and looking at the pale, worn face of Iorwen across from me. Somehow we must have gotten away. So then…where was Iorwen?

Amazed at how rested I felt, I sat up and stretched my muscles and joints till I was comfortable with my body again. Looking about, I knew instantly that I was no where near Emyn Muil. I must have been asleep for a very long time indeed for Iorwen to have brought me here…or else…

I swung my legs over the platform I was sitting on and stood. For a moment, I swayed, unaccustomed to the sudden sensation of being able to stand again. But it was only a short moment. Feeling renewed, I lifted my arms and studied them in curiosity. They were completely without blemish or wound. On my stomach, however…

I placed a hand to my stomach and felt even underneath the fabric, the long ribbons of scars that crossed my skin. No doubt my back was mottled with the same imperfections. The infection and lack of medical attention aside from that rancid paste had left my skin to heal in a very unnatural way for an elf. They were still nothing in comparison to what a human would have been left with.

Frowning, but far from bothered by my new faults, I turned to the interior of the tabernacle I was under. It looked like a typical medical station for an elf. I quickly assessed the herbs and plants hanging to dry from the roof of the tabernacle. Beside several barrels of water and grains, a long table was set out with various bowls and pestles along its length, along with several plates and cutting blocks. I could see that someone had been in the process of mashing bran used for horses, but apparently something had drawn them away. Looking beyond the tabernacle, I spied the tan hide of the mallorn trees and realized that I was in Lothlorien. But for how long, I had no idea.

Behind me, my renewed senses picked up immediately on the sound of feet coming my way--not bothering to hide their approach. I spun and waited patiently for the emerging figure. Soon, a slight elf appeared out of the foliage carrying a basket on her hip and a silver jar in her hand. I had long before concluded that Iorwen and I must have been helped from the grasp of the orcs, so I was not surprised to see one of my kindred. However, the sight of one of my kindred after my absence…

I closed my eyes and inwardly thanked the Valar for considering my life. This was where I belonged. I could feel the complete and total rightness of it even as I stood there. Ahead of me, the she-elf whom I rightly assumed was the local healer, smiled and sped up so that she was almost immediately in front of me. "You have finally awoken. The others shall be very pleased. I am Ireth of Dorthonion, welcome to Lothlorien."

"Legolas Thranduilion of Eryn Lasgalen," I replied, falling back into my old ways easily, "Please, tell me how long it has been that I've been asleep."

Ireth nodded, "It has been nearly a full week by the account of the Imladris elves."

"Imladris elves?" I asked, confusion evident on my face.

"Yes, the last company of Imladris found you and the mortal Iorwen in the depths of Emyn Muil. They brought you here with all haste."

I blanched at the word 'mortal', remembering how Iorwen had hated it so. "Do not call her that."

Ireth was clearly confused. "Mortal? If it pleases you, lord."

I blinked at the title of lord and realized that I'd become very used to the sound of my own name over the past few months. Shaking my head at the thought, I asked another question--one that I dreaded. "Tell me, Ireth…how long has it been since the destruction of the One Ring?"

Ireth lifted a thin eyebrow and answered slowly as though I was somehow dumber than I had been a moment before, "Three score years, my lord. I would have assumed that a member of the original fellowship would have known such."

I didn't hear her words after that. Sixty years… Surely, by now my father was gone.

"Ireth, do you know the fate of my father: Lord Thranduil of the Mirkwood realm?" I held my breath, awaiting the inevitable answer.

"He has long since departed to the Undying Lands. He had thought you lost forever. Even for an elf, sixty years is a long time to wait."

I closed my eyes, allowing the truth to sink in, surprised at the strange acceptance that washed over me. He was gone. He was gone just like she was. They were together again.

I was able to feel a slight bit of happiness at that knowledge. Nothing was more right than two people who loved each other being able to be together again.

"It is a long time…" I breathed out, allowing my eyes to open again. Setting aside my grief for a later date, I looked upon Ireth and asked for Iorwen's whereabouts.

Ireth stared at me blankly for a moment before sighing slightly and looking down. Concern and anxiousness immediately overtook any previous emotions and I took a step forward, worry etching my voice. "Ireth, where is Iorwen?"

Ireth looked up and gave me an attempt at a reassuring smile. "I think you should talk to the Lord Finwe about this matter."

"Who is Lord Finwe?" I asked quickly, already ready to sprint into the woods beyond looking for him.

"He is one of the leaders of the Imladris elves. They reside temporarily near the center of the city."

Without a word, I sprinted past Ireth into the depths of the Lorien woods, my knowledge of said woods quickly leading me to the gate of Lothlorien. I ran through, reaching the tree that had once been the home of the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn. All around me I could hear the sound of my kindred emerging to see me. They recognized me instantly, and I could hear their murmuring as they talked amongst themselves. "Prince Greenleaf" I heard some of them call, hoping to give me their praise and greeting. Despite typical protocol, I couldn't bring myself to slow in my search for the Lord Finwe.

"Please," I called out to the elves that had gathered behind me, "Can any of you tell me where dwells the Lord Finwe?" I shifted anxiously, waiting for an answer. But before they could answer, a voice called out from behind them.

"Calm yourself, prince. I am here."

Blinking, I looked beyond the Lorien elves and spied two elves coming toward me. They parted the Lorien elves and I knew as I looked upon them that they were brothers. For, aside from the difference in hair color, they looked almost exactly the same. Their expressions were placid and at the same type filled with a kind of sympathy that made me even more nervous. Their light traveling clothes were obviously new, provided to them by the Lorien elves and it became clear to me that these were the Imladris elves.

"Lord Finwe?" I asked, my voice clear and determined in my haste to find an answer.

"Aye," the dark-haired of the two bowed his head, "I am Finwe and this is my brother Valandil. We are the leaders of the last company of Imladris."

I composed myself slightly, trying to remember the polite greetings and niceties that one was required to use, but were strictly unimportant to me right at that moment. "Lords," I bowed, "I am Legolas Thranduilion. I thank you for your care and your aid in rescuing myself and Iorwen from the hand of the orcs."

"It was well-deserved," Finwe bowed in reply.

Unable to keep up politeness any longer, I launched myself into the question I'd come to ask in the first place. "You are the leaders of the Imladris elves…" I waited for their nods of assurance, "Then…you would know the whereabouts of my friend, Iorwen?"

Finwe and Valandil didn't look surprised at my question. In fact, Finwe looked to Valandil, his eyes explaining something without words, as though they had discussed this previously. Valandil sighed and looked at me directly, "You have the right to know, certainly. But you will not be pleased."

"Just tell me," I said, restraining myself from growling out the words. My mind was already contemplating the worst.

"She has left, Lord Greenleaf. She left five nights ago."

My mind spun momentarily, trying to comprehend why…how…

Why would she leave? Why would she leave me after all that we'd been through these past few months? She knew nothing of this world, so why would she abandon her only acquaintance that _did_. And even more than that…why would she just leave me? I had thought…maybe just imagined…

I had saved her life. She had saved mine. What was she thinking?

"That can not be right," I croaked, "She would never do that. Why would she?"

Valandil shook his head as though he was still trying to understand it himself. "She would hear no argument."

My mind immediately began to process the implications of this. "Did you send anyone _with_ her? Who is protecting her?"

Valandil looked ashamed. Fury began to override my senses. "Tell me, Lord Valandil, that you sent someone with her." I seethed.

"I gave her a horse. It knows these lands as well as anyone here."

"You are telling me that you let her leave with just a horse and no more? I know the Ring is gone, but certainly there are still dangers for Eru's sake!"

Finwe took a step forward, "Peace, Thranduilion. My brother has told me that there was no way to argue with the girl. She would have left of her own will no matter what we said. She would not allow anyone to know where she was going. She simply wished to leave."

"But why?!" I felt like I was about to explode. How could she do this to me?

Valandil's voice was dangerously soft, "She told me that she could not be responsible for messing up anything else."

"What? Is she mad? What else did she say?" I grasped desperately to anything that would give me a clue to her whereabouts.

I watched Valandil battle mentally within himself for a few moments before he finally gave in. "She said that you' ha made it clear that she'd ruined your life."

I stopped. Somewhere within me, a tiny memory tried to claw its way to the surface, fighting for recognition in the midst of all the other convoluted recollections.

"_The Great God of a Fool told me he was going to give me some kind of ultimate happiness! He decided that he was to take me away from all I knew, from all I loved and cherished, so that I could go be with some silly, foolish, naïve human girl who did not want me anyway! You know what I think they wished, Iorwen? I think that they wished for me to love you and for you to love me in return! How strange the ways of omnipotent beings!"_

Inwardly, I despaired. It hadn't been a nightmare after all. I'd actually told her all those horrible things.

Sinking to my knees, I shut my eyes and willed the world to change immediately.

I could hear Valandil over my head, worriedly asking about my condition.

Opening my eyes, I spoke quietly to the Imladris elf, "I need a horse and provisions."

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: He's awake and he's not happy. Watch out, Iorwen.

-MusicalCharlatan


	31. Dumb Luck

_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter Thirty-One—Dumb Luck

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_Iorwen POV_

Well, as you can probably very easily tell, my plan of departure had not in fact any real…plan to it. It had run as follows: get away from Legolas before he wakes up. Of course, me being the idiot that I am, I hadn't really considered how I was going to run away properly; even when I was fairly certain he was going to be waking up soon. It wasn't until Valandil and I started talking that the cogs in my mind really started turning. And, well, you know what happened after that… It was all very hasty and ill-prepared on my part. And I had to admit that I was starting to mildly regret my act of stupidity.

That being said, I suppose I'll go ahead and set the scene. I had made some semblance of a plan as I'd left Lothlorien, realizing that if I had any hope of survival I needed to at least have some semblance of an _idea_ of a plan. So, I followed the river—the big one that snaked out of Lorien and into the seemingly endless forest beyond. It was, after all, what the Fellowship had done. Of course it did not occur to my apparently scrambled brain that the Fellowship had in fact gone the opposite direction.

But, luckily for me, this course of action: following the river, that is, seemed to flip a memory switch with Beriadan. I'd steered him towards the river banks and instantly his ears had perked in recognition. I had no idea what it meant but it was the only feasible reason I had for the strange and—I was sure—_very_ stupid confidence that seemed to egg me on. So, I'm assuming now as I look back that I must have been mentally traumatized. It's the only answer I can come up with that makes sense. Why the hell else wouldn't I have been terrified out of my pretty little head? Anyone else would have been scared stiff, right? I mean, traveling in a completely unknown land aside from scarce knowledge based off some high school reading. But not I. Oh, no. I apparently was retarded.

Even as I stood there next to Beriadan, examining the thick spatters of blood that spackled the ground, I couldn't work up the terror I knew I should have been feeling. After all, it was the darkest blood I'd ever seen, completely and utterly disparate from human blood. It was thick, almost goopy in texture. And it absolutely reeked.

Beriadan didn't like it at all, of that I was certain. His ears were straight up and despite his normally docile nature, he shuffled nervously, his hide quivering and eyes wide so that I could see the white around his irises. I stroked his neck idly, trying to calm him as well as myself. I wasn't scared and that was what scared me. I knew as I stood there that I was actually contemplating _following _the trail of blood into the woods. And this idea was—according to every ounce of reason in my body—the epitome of blatant and self-harmful idiocy.

Beriadan gave his head a violent jerk, causing my arm to be yanked up with the reins with a painful jolt. It was obvious to me that he wanted to leave, but my goddamned curiosity was already heavily aroused.

Knowing it was probably best to stay off Beriadan when his anxiety was increasing exponentially by the minute, I continued ahead walking, pulling him along as I went. Reluctantly (very reluctantly), the horse followed obediently as I stepped daintily over the blood, following the thin dripped line that went into the copse ahead. As I searched for the red drops, I saw other signs of dying life. Bushes were trampled, grass and tree litter smashed into the earth, small limbs cracked by force. Within myself, I felt the accumulation of emotion that would no doubt eventually release itself as horror. I knew whatever it was that I was following was big. One tree had an entire side covered in blood that reached at least five feet off the ground. I looked at the tree curiously, noting how high the blood stains reached and feeling strangely relieved to know that an orc could never have left such a mark--they were much too short after all.

Beriadan was practically shaking with fear by this point, making jittery steps that were begging me to turn around so that he could sprint in the opposite direction. I frowned at his edginess and continued on into the woods. Eventually, I realized we were getting closer. The smell started to grow in odiferous waves and soon I started to hear the agonized growling of an animal. My heart speeding up in what I now realize was actually exhilaration and NOT fear, I edged closer to the large tree that was blocking my sight of where the trail led around it. Tying Beriadan's reins hastily to a branch, I crept through the dense underbrush, trying vainly to avoid the branches that clung to the riding dress and cloak Earane had given me. My boots, however, made hardly a sound as I stole through the foliage. Rounding another large tree, I put my back to its bark and bent my head around to see past its rough exterior. Peering beyond, I saw the largest and most terrifying animal my eyes had ever beheld. Squirming in the last of its death throes, a massive wolf, practically as tall as me and well over a ton in size, lay on a bed of tree litter. Its huge cruel fangs snarled in agony as the pool of blood surrounding it continued to grow. It had patchy mottled fur and paws bigger than my outstretched hand. The smell coming off of it was horrific. I wasn't sure how it was still alive, for a huge gash had been delved into its belly causing its intestines to steadily eek out onto the ground. Aside from that, five thick-shafted arrows were buried in its hide; three in its back and two embedded at the base of his throat. Flies had already begun to accumulate on its huge frame, buzzing incessantly and causing the dying monster even more displeasure.

Its huge bare maw lifted and sniffed the air as I leaned around the tree, and I realized with a small twinge of fear that it had smelled my presence. Snarling at the tree I was hiding behind, the wolf attempted to raise its body with one agonizing effort that left it without any energy left. I stood stiff behind the tree, wondering what I'd do if the creature did actually manage to get up. But, luckily for me, it was already at death's gate. Flopping back onto the ground, it whimpered a peal of tortured suffering--so pitiful that I almost felt sorry for it--and laid its head on the ground in acceptance. Seconds later, the yellow eyes were left staring into space, utterly vacant of sentient recognition.

Heart thudding like the steady beats of a bass drum, I waited until I was sure the creature was dead before coming to a standstill before its disgusting corpse. I wasn't sure what it was that I was so interested in, but for some reason seeing the dead body of such a magnificently foreign monster was absolutely eye-opening.

"You'd never see one of these back home," I muttered dryly, examining the gargantuan animal.

Almost instantaneously, I heard Beriadan's cry of warning. Spinning around, I stood stock still, hoping that my eyes were deceiving me.

Beriadan reared into the air, eyes rolling in terror, his forelegs pounding the air as he struggled to get loose. Before him, two wolves--smaller than the dead one but no less dangerous--were evident through the tangle of growth. They edged towards my horse slowly, apparently savoring Beriadan's helplessness.

Mouth dry and my heart now beating to the point that it was about to bruise the inside of my ribs, I stood there, rooted to the ground, too terrified to move. There was absolutely no way I could stop those wolves. I didn't have any kind of weapon; just another oversight of mine in my rushed exodus from Lothlorien. And I couldn't call for a help; an act that—in the apparent empty vastness of Middle Earth—would only turn the attention of the wolves from Beriadan to me who had an even smaller chance of surviving an attack from the wolves. So, gaping like a moron, I shuffled backwards as quietly as I possibly could, my mind scrambling for a plan of attack that wouldn't leave both me and Beriadan dead. I mentally cursed myself for tying up an animal that would have no doubt stayed put out of loyalty anyway.

Without warning, the smaller of the wolves leapt forward, aiming for Beriadan's throat. The horse reared yet again and struck out with one of his strong forelegs. He caught the creature right between the eyes, sending the wolf tumbling into the underbrush. The other began circling Beriadan. The horse skittered sideways, trying to avoid the ever-closing distance between him and the wolf. Growling out a sound that made my hair stand up on my body, the wolf jumped, trying to grab Beriadan's neck just as the wolf before had but missing when Beriadan leapt sideways. He instead crashed into the branch holding Beriadan's reins. Free, Beriadan wasted no time. Reverting to horse instinct completely, he disappeared like a gray thought, hooves pounding into the ground in fevered speed. The wolf let out a growl of frustration and took off after him, leaving me alone in the copse. Across the way, I could see the other wolf coming to, shaking its head of the massive headache he was no doubt suffering from Beriadan's blow.

It smelled me before it saw me, its gray muzzle twitched once and then flicked up so it could lay its yellow eyes on me. I shuddered and then instinct took over just as Beriadan's had. Leaping up, I caught the lowest branch of the tree next to me and hauled myself up with the kind of freak adrenaline that is induced purely by terror. The strangely calm exhilaration that I'd been experiencing earlier was completely gone by this point, and I was practically vibrating with panic as I grappled with the tree limbs, hauling myself up with uncoiled strength. I glanced back down once I was a good 15 feet off the ground and saw the wolf clawing the side of the tree in a useless effort to climb up after me.

"Jesus tap dancing Christ," I breathed, relief flooding through me like the cool air of an air-conditioned building on a summer day.

But it wasn't over yet obviously.

I didn't know how long that wolf was willing to stay down there, but I was completely damn certain that it wasn't as long as _I _was willing to stay.

Settling my back into the crook of two branches, I tried to get comfortable on my hard wooden seat, watching as the wolf continued its aggravated scraping at the bottom of the tree. A few minutes passed and finally it ceased, huffing out a dog-like sigh and opting for circling the tree menacingly.

Sitting there dumbly, I realized immediately what a mess I'd gotten myself into. I had no food since my pack had been strapped to Beriadan. I had no idea where I was. There was no foreseeable help except maybe Legolas if he did what I didn't want him to do and followed me. And to top it all off, I was going to have to spend the night in a tree with a leviathan-sized wolf circling it waiting for me to come down so it could rip me to tiny bite-sized pieces. I was going to die of starvation and dehydration in a tree in a world completely apart from my own without a friend or companion to speak of.

"Moron, idiot, dumbass, loser, retard," I grumbled, berating myself for my stupidity. If I had just heeded Beriadan's instincts and gone the other direction I wouldn't be in this situation.

Banging my head against the trunk of the tree, I sighed. I already missed Lothlorien and I hadn't spent more than one night in the place. If I had just taken some kind of weapon with me when I'd left… I could have at least taken a bow. After all, I had taken archery lessons when I was in middle school.

"Wait!" I sat up straight, nearly falling off my branch in the process. I glanced back down, spying the dead wolf a few yards off. The arrows were still sticking out of him like a pincushion and I felt myself gain a new bout of hope. If that wolf was riddled with arrows then that meant that there were probably hunters about. It was a small thread of hope, but it was all I had.

So, I settled myself into the crook of the tree where the branch and trunk met and wrapped my arms around the trunk, later falling into a heavy sleep. I woke several times when I would slip slightly and the gut-wrenching feeling of dropping would jar me awake. But I made it through the night. The next day I focused on trying to get some type of food. There was of course an obvious selection, but it wasn't exactly appetizing.

I held the leaf up to my eye, wondering whether leaves had any nutritional value. I concluded that they must, since virtually everything that's green is healthy in some way. Now, whether or not said leafy item would be able to work its way past my gag reflex was something else entirely.

Sighing, I closed my eyes and shoved the leaf in my mouth. I was so damn hungry, I could hardly protest as I ground the leaf into mush and forced it down my throat. I repeated the process three more times, all the while wishing I had a bow so I could shoot the goddamned wolf underneath me and just eat _him_. Afterwards, I wracked my brain for escape scenarios. Somewhere in the midst of all that contemplating, I remembered a story somewhat similar to my own situation. I wasn't sure whether I'd read it in The Fellowship of the Ring or The Hobbit, but I was absolutely certain that I'd read a story where a company of people had escaped from wolves by climbing trees and then managed an escape with fire somehow. But I couldn't quite remember how. I ran it through my brain multiple times, considering the best way to escape using fire and eventually came up with a plan. I would wait until the beast was asleep and then do my best to drop fire on its prone form. It wasn't exactly Patton's work, but it was all I could think of. Now, the only problem was how to make the fire.

It later occurred to me that the story was from The Hobbit and they'd escaped because Gandalf—a rather unfair advantage, I'd say—was able to shoot fire at the wargs and then they were rescued by the eagles.

I glared down at the gargantuan wolf, grimly wondering how on earth (or, rather, Middle Earth) I'd managed to run into such disgusting, fearsome, infamous creatures.

Shaking my head in irritation, I set to making my fire. I ground a tiny hole in my branch and, using some of the dead leaves about my head and a stick, began to twist and grind my stick into the leaves. It wasn't near as easy as they made it look in the movies. I spent the rest of the day tentatively blowing at wisps of smoke, attempting to get a flame going. It was already deep into the night when I finally managed to get a spark going. I then spent the next five minutes trying to find something that was suitable for catching aflame and dropping on my irritating guest downstairs. Of course, I should have developed this particular tool beforehand, but I obviously am not one for careful planning. I broke off a particularly leafy branch and held it to my tiny flame that I'd successfully managed to keep alive.

And, then, I kid you not—just as I was managing to get the branch to flame up--the rain started. Throughout most of my life Murphy's Law has been prevalent, but _this_ was just a blatant abuse of power on its part. I almost started crying as the sprinkles of water continued to grow in intensity until I was utterly soaked and my branch was waterlogged. I placed it next to me and sulked, but then quickly realized that this was a golden opportunity to gather up some drinking water. Grudgingly using my boot as a kind of bucket, I sat up for hours, gathering water. It was almost the wee hours of the morning when I finally settled myself back into my customary sleeping position and allowed myself to drift off, drenched to the core but with my thirst sufficiently satiated.

The next time I awoke it wasn't due to my own being but rather my bothersome warg. I wondered if the bastard had finally decided to leave, but as I sat up I knew that was not the case. A dog-like yelp had pierced the morning, and I found myself hoping against all reason that the disgusting creature had somehow kicked the bucket. My hopes were dashed when a fierce growl sounded out below me and then another yip of surprise and pain. I looked down, trying to see through the mess of branches as best I could. A blob of brown flopped onto the ground at the base of my tree and let out a moan. It was then that I heard the hoof beats. Horses were all about the clearing and suddenly I could pick out the distinctive calls of a leader to his men. Excited and hopeful, I quickly dropped through the branches, until I was only about 8 feet off the ground. Immediately I saw the shapes of men on horseback emerging from the surrounding forest. They were in fact men, I noticed, with not an elf in sight. This thought was strangely relieving to me, and I suddenly realized that I had not actually seen another human being in over 2 months.

"Cease your arrows, boys. You're wasting 'em," I heard a gruff voice call out and I craned my neck forward to see the faces of the five men on horses. They all looked to be in their early twenties or thirties except for one man—the leader, I assumed—who was directly in the middle. They were all fairly decent-looking men but I still wondered if it was smart to just let them become aware of my position. Deciding against it, I quickly climbed back up as quietly as I could and watched from a safe vantage point.

"Fair shot, Arhem," one of the men said, getting off his horse and kneeling next to the apparently dead wolf and examining an arrow lodged in its large skull. Yet again, it looked like I'd been saved by pure and utter dumb luck.

"Thank you," Arhem, I assumed, replied humbly.

"Somebody, go burn that wolf corpse over there but mind the trees," the oldest man commanded, pointing to the other dead warg near my tree. Obediently, one of the men quickly disappeared from their midst. I saw with a pang of annoyance that he had a piece of flint that he used to start a fire almost instantly. Still crowding the bottom of my tree, the other men started talking about something that I couldn't quite hear. I caught a few phrases, such as "three now remain", "no more attacks", and "create a guard" but I had no idea what they were talking about.

Quite suddenly, one of the men's attention was redirected when he took his time to look at the base of my tree. "Look 'ere," he exclaimed, causing the other men to look up.

"What is it, Ganem?" Asked the leader, his voice stiff and concerned.

Ganem kneeled down and touched the ground, "It looks like the wolf has been here for quite some time, captain. Look, he has been circling this tree."

"What?"

They all began looking at the ground around the tree and I scooted nervously closer to the trunk wishing they would leave so I could scurry down. "You think it trapped something up this tree, captain?"

"It must have," the captain murmured looking up the length of the trunk. I pressed closer to the tree, hoping the branches and shadows hid me from their sight.

"You think it's still up there?"

The captain shook his head. "I do not know, but I did see some human foot prints out here earlier. I wonder…"

The other men nodded in agreement, "Aye, they were all about that blood trail--along with those horse tracks."

"Precisely," the captain said, "maybe someone had an unfortunate encounter with some wolves. It looks like they finished off our big alpha male that attacked Urol."

The men all flinched at the name Urol and looked at the ground. The captain ignored their discomfort and got closer to my tree. I wriggled nervously and hugged the tree desperately.

It never paid to immediately trust people you didn't know; especially strange men from an unknown, medieval-esque world.

One of the men scoffed at their captain, "They would not have remained there, would they? After all, they would have seen our approach and come down."

One of the other men, Ganem, shook his head, "Not if they do not trust us."

"Hello?" The captain called up to my tree, and I almost jumped, "Is anyone there? We will bring you no harm. Come down. We have slain the wolf. There is naught to fear."

I let out a nervous breath, warring within myself on the intelligence of leaving my safe tree. If I stayed I could escape after they left, but if I did that I would have to scavenge for food and resources and go without a horse. I would have to take my chances, I decided, because sooner or later I was going to have to seek help from somebody if I wanted to survive out here.

Praying briefly to whatever deity would listen; I pulled on my now empty suede boot before beginning my descent. I climbed down rapidly, trying not to think of what might happen if I was wrong about my decision. Once I was at a low branch, I swung down and landed with a soft plop on the moist loam and looked bravely into the astonished faces of the men around me. They stared at me in obvious bewilderment and awe, causing me to wonder if I really looked as bad as I felt. After all, I'd been away from Lothlorien for four days and had only managed to get a decent bath twice in that time. My hair was no doubt tangled beyond all reason and my face was probably cut up from wiry branches and streaked from the rain that had assaulted me only a few hours prior. The only thing presentable about me was my somehow spotless clothes given to me by the elves. The fabric was resistant to water and dirt, which I was eternally thankful for.

Finally, one of the men squeaked out a strange noise that made me frown. I knew I looked bad, but was I really worth squeaking out in surprise about? They all stared at me avidly, and then one of them managed to speak.

"An elf?" He questioned out loud, disbelief causing his mouth to hang rather stupidly.

I blinked in equal surprise, "What?"

The captain hastily bowed in greeting, followed by the rest of them. "Forgive our speechlessness, my lady. But it has been many years since one of the fair folk have revealed themselves to us. Even before the time of the Ring when the elves were an abundant race, it was a rare and privileged thing for us to meet one. Please, allow me to introduce my company. This is Erinor," he pointed to dark haired man next to him with a thick beard and emerald green eyes, "that is Darith," he pointed to a man I assumed was the youngest of the group, his hair was a light brown and his face clean shaven with blue eyes that sparkled mischievously, "the short one is Ganem," he pointed to the man who had spotted the tracks around my tree, "and, lastly, is Arhem," he nodded at a young dark-haired man who was also clean-shaven and had keen brown eyes that met mine in recognition. The captain then addressed himself, "And my name is Falin. We are hunters from a little town called Ren near the mouth of the River Gladden. We are proud to be able to meet one of the immortals."

"Well said, Captain Falin," I replied, remembering typical etiquette rules, "My name is Iorwen. I thank you for your help in disposing of this warg. But I must tell you before you continue, I am no elf." I said, pulling back my hair to show my rounded ears.

They all looked shocked. "But you are dressed in their manner and move with their grace," pointed out Darith, who looked thoroughly confused.

I flushed at the inadvertent compliment and shook my head. "I am only an elf friend. I was provided these clothes by a company of elves that helped me a while back. I have just recently left them and I was on my way when I spotted a blood trail leading to that wolf," I glanced at the now charred warg, "I was then caught unawares by two others. One chased my horse away and the other proceeded to come after me. I have been stuck in that tree for almost two days now, so, again, my thanks."

"Think nothing of it, my lady. It is the least we could do for an elf friend. None of us has ever known a person that actually interacted with the fair folk. But, please, let us move away from here. We would be honored to have you stay with us for as long as you will. No doubt you are hungry after having stayed in that tree for so long."

"To say the least," I said.

After they were done burning the other warg body, they mounted their horses and readied to leave. Immediately, there started a debate over who was going to get to have me ride with them. Apparently being out in the wilderness for a while with only men was enough incentive for men to want even _me._ I found myself grinning stupidly as they bickered as subtly as possible with each other. I chuckled and held out my hand to Arhem who I'd liked from the start. He looked surprised, as he'd been the only one sitting on his horse quietly the whole time, watching his friends with a look of pity. The other men quieted down instantly, going into a kind of envious silence, and Arhem quickly reached down and with considerable strength lifted me bodily up in front of him onto the horse. I knew I'd lost a lot of weight since I'd arrived in Middle Earth, but it was still quite the feat to pick me up off the ground with such ease. I looked at him in surprise and smiled thankfully.

"It is probably best for your health that you ride with me," he said quietly, "The others are somewhat…hungry after time away from women."

I laughed, "And I suppose you are above such weakness, eh?"

He chuckled and I turned to look at him when he delayed in answering. "I'm just better at hiding it," he said, and I very nearly shivered with the way he said it.

His brown eyes sparkled with playfulness and I had to turn away quickly to stop myself from looking at his lips. _See_, I thought to myself, _you don't need Legolas to be happy. You've got plenty of potential options in your very own species. What a novel idea! Marry someone who will actually live approximately the same length of time as you will! _

The group of men began working their way back in the direction of the river; the direction from whence I'd come. They made their way through the trees deftly, apparently using the same exact trail they'd used to get where I was. It was not long before we were back to the side of the Anduin River. Immediately, they began heading upstream in the way I _should_ have continued if I'd heeded Beriadan. Thirty minutes later, we came upon a large clearing that expanded along the length of a small tributary stream that opened up into the Anduin. Along this little river, they'd set up camp earlier.

We stopped outside the camp and Arhem easily lifted me off the horse before dismounting. They tied their horses to low branches and immediately began preparing things for supper. I jumped at the chance to help them, considering they'd helped me with my main problem: the destruction of that damn warg.

Erinor disappeared to get more firewood, Captain Falin began skinning a few rabbits that he'd had hanging from his saddle, Darith went to gather water, Ganem unhooked several pots from his horse and started setting up a fire, while Arhem disappeared into the woods to "gather some things to make the stew bearable" he told me.

I watched them go about their business quietly, slightly miffed with the fact that they didn't need my help. When I asked Captain Falin for a job to do he told me stay put and relax. And relax I did. It was absolutely wonderful to be able to lay down on the ground and not a rough, hard trunk that forced you to sit upright all the time. I was still dead tired since I'd only gotten about five hours of sleep in that damn tree. My mind was slowly reverting to the hazy stage of almost-asleep, and I was nearly gone completely when the stew was finally finished. I opened my eyes all the way, wondering how they'd managed to finish supper so quickly. I sat up and absentmindedly accepted the bowl of food I was handed. Next to me Darith sat down, already shoveling stew into his mouth. I saw the steaming hunks of meat in the bowls and realized that I was actually about to eat rabbit stew. Too hungry to be even slightly bothered by this information, I began mimicking Darith and started to shove the stew into my mouth using the wooden spoon they'd provided me.

I saw Erinor and Ganem smile at each other when they saw how quickly I was eating, laughing slightly to themselves. "It will not disappear if you slow down, Lady Iorwen," Erinor said, pointing at my bowl.

"You try eating nothing but leaves for two days and then we'll see if you eat any differently." I replied, not even looking up from the rabbit stew that tasted like honey in my mouth.

"Oh, he wouldn't eat like you," Darith said with a grin, "He'd eat the entire bowl, the stew, and the spoon, too."

I ignored them all, only ceasing when I'd eaten that bowl and another full one as well. When I was full, I leaned back against a boulder at the edge of the stream and stretched.

"So, Lady Iorwen, where do you hail from?" Ganem asked hesitantly.

I shook my head, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Is it far to the south?" Erinor asked disbelievingly.

I popped my neck by rolling it both ways, "Much further than any of you have ever been, I can assure you." I replied coolly, my eyes daring them to contradict me.

"Well, then, what brings you here?" asked Arhem, his eyes finding mine.

I rubbed my cheek, wondering if it was possible to relate my story without making them think I was crazy. I decided smoothing it over a little wouldn't hurt, so I launched into a rather pathetic account of my last few months. "Well, me and a friend of mine…" I paused, wondering if I should tell them about Legolas. I figured it couldn't hurt anything, "He's an elf from the now deserted land of Mirkwood and he wanted to get home, so I decided I'd help him, but on our way we got captured by some rebel orcs living deep under the rocks of Emyn Muil. We later escaped with the help of other elves and they took us to Lothlorien. My friend had been asleep for weeks and they told me that in Lothlorien they could help us, so when they told me he would be okay, I left and…yeah…" I ended lamely.

Captain Falin seemed slightly disturbed, "You say that some orcs still remain beyond the East Emnet?"

I nodded uncertainly, trying to remember what the East Emnet was. Captain Falin shook his head dismally, "No matter how many we kill; it seems they will continue to live in hiding."

Darith seemed fascinated, "You have been to the Golden Wood? What is it like?"

I smiled in remembrance, "I was not there for very long, but I'll never forget how

enchanting it was. Light was everywhere, even at night when the canopy of the mallorn trees blocked out the moonlight. The elves so completely at peace with nature that they live in the tress in beautiful white-washed homes. Nothing else in the world could be so ethereal."

Darith seemed pleased with my description and his baby-face features slid into a wistful look.

"Wait," Arhem said suddenly, looking confused, "Why would you leave so soon after arriving in Lothlorien, especially when you knew your friend would be okay?"

I stared at him blankly, my mind reeling with something to say in reply. "Um…well, I was…I just needed to get away. I couldn't stay."

Seeing my anxiousness, Captain Falin hushed all other questions directed at me and told the men to shut up and let me sleep. "We will keep watch through the night and sleep around the perimeter, Lady Iorwen. Fear not for your safety."

I nodded a short and extremely grateful thanks for his intervention and snuggled into the space between the boulder and the ground below. I wasn't sure why I trusted these men so implicitly, but something about them reminded me of my grandfather's ever-chivalrous personality. They all seemed loyal, trustworthy, and very capable of protecting what they loved. But most of all, they were very human. I could sense the emotion in them as easily as a dog could sense fear. It was so easy to read them after having spent so much time with elves, trying to figure out what they were thinking. I felt safe and so I drifted off.

The last thought I had was that I was certain Legolas would have liked all the men a lot, too, and this pleased me more than I should have allowed it to.

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:There! One of my longest chapters since my very first one! Aren't you all proud of me?! Now, if you please, review and tell me truthfully just what you think, and, of course, your predictions of what's going to happen. I like knowing what ya'll think.

-MusicalCharlatan


	32. How to Kill a Deity

_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter Thirty-Two—How to Kill a Deity

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_Legolas POV_

I think most will find it easy to believe that the idea of following and finding Iorwen on my own was not daunting in any way. I'm a skilled tracker even in the worst of situations, and I was fairly familiar with this terrain, having traversed it several times before; not least of which being during the quest to destroy The Ring. And so, my confusion is probably understandable when I found myself heading towards the mountains in my search for Iorwen. I could not possibly fathom why on earth she would head in that direction. No doubt she would have seen the looming peaks overhead and gone a different way. I knew of Iorwen's fear of heights and she must have certainly understood that on her own, attempting to cross the mountains would be almost certain death. My first guess had been that she would follow the Anduin River away from Lothlorien, but as I followed the ridiculously obvious trail leading away from the heart of Lorien, I found myself following the banks of the quick-rushing Silverlode (also known as Celebrant), a river that flows from the hewn sides of Hithaeglir or the Misty Mountains as it is more commonly known.

My concern for Iorwen increased with each passing day, expanding like a dark stain on my thoughts till I was terrified I might lose her to something accidental and easily preventable. If those fool Imladris Elves had just stopped her from leaving, I wouldn't have to be worrying about saving her from a dangerous land she knew virtually nothing about.

I continued traveling, following the River Celebrant as I went, and always searching for signs of Iorwen. They were very easy to find. Iorwen left a trail like a dying mumakil (oliphaunt), her prints were found in the soft loam near the river on occasion, apparently when she was getting water. Her horse's prints were evident in the soft loam, and I often found strands of horse hair caught in overhanging branches signifying their direction. My hope grew with every new sign, but at the same time I felt wary. I knew that Iorwen had no experience traveling across country, but her horse—Beriadan, Valandil told me—certainly had. But the horse seemed absolutely clumsy. I found traces of his presence everywhere and that bothered me. No Elvin horse I'd ever known was so obvious. They knew how to keep their tracks well hidden and their needs few.

Ignoring my paranoia, I continued following the trail for four days, never resting except to care for my horse and eat a few pieces of _lembas _provided for me by the Lorien elves. It was at the end of the fourth day that I began nearing the foot of the Hithaeglir. A kind of dread had been worming its way into my soul ever since I'd spotted the mountains four days ago, and now as I came nearer and nearer all the repressed memories involving the Misty Mountains began to work their way back into my mind. Soon, if the trail continued as it had, I would come near the gate leading out of Moria—the place where Gandalf had died so many years prior, but seemed so near to my recollection. Despite Gandalf's resurrection, it was still a place that filled me with despair. I did my best to forget my feelings involving the looming mountains and instead found hope in Iorwen's trail. It had become more sparse and more…realistic was the only way I could think to describe it. It was as though the horse had suddenly realized how obvious of a path it was leaving and had decided to correct his mistake. My own horse, Caranthir, began to calm considerably as we came nearer to the mountains. I couldn't quite understand this strange change, but I decided not to question it; especially when it was unlikely that I'd ever get an answer.

It was nearly nightfall when, after six days of constant travel, I allowed myself to stop and rest. I'd stopped on occasion to give Caranthir and myself a chance to rest momentarily and eat, but they had been few and quick. So, once the sun had disappeared behind the mountains, I dismounted, allowed Caranthir to wander off to graze, and set up camp. I found a spot void of grass and built a small fire, inwardly feeling odd that I could do so without worrying about enemies. I easily shot down a small bird for dinner (with the bow that I'd requested from the weapon masters in Lorien before I departed), so that I might have something other than the lembas bread I'd been eating for the past week, and roasted it over the small fire. I was finishing up my meal when a strange prickling along my spine alerted me of another's presence. I could feel their eyes on me.

Standing slowly, I turned and was not surprised in the least to see the eerie floating silhouette of what I now assumed to be one of the Valar or at least one of their messengers. It was the same figure as the one that had appeared to me in the foul marshes surrounding Mordor. The moon was behind him as usual, making it impossible to discern any characteristics, only casting it in shadow and outlining it in the silver lining of the moon's light. We faced each other rather like two respected warriors from opposite sides of a battle might approach each other for negotiation.

"Greetings, Thranduilion," said the silhouette, not bothering to raise his voice for my heightened hearing abilities, "What brings you to Hithaeglir? Have you not seen enough of such a cold place?" I knew he wasn't referring to the climate, but rather Gandalf's death and the dark period for the Fellowship which I had had to endure. His teasing irritated me.

I had the sneaking suspicion that he knew exactly why I was here. So, struggling to contain my annoyance, I called back in an equally placid tone, "Speak your purpose, god child. I've no time for bandying words with a riddle-speaking shadow."

The figure chuckled. It was a lyrical sound that made my skin tremble slightly. "I think you will find that I am far more than shadow, Mr. Eros."

I froze. That name that he'd called me--only one person had ever called me that. "How did--where is Iorwen?" I demanded.

"You do know who Eros is, do you not? Did she never tell you? He is a deity created by the Greeks--surely you heard of them during your time there. He is a "god"", the figure laughed derisively, "of love, lust and intercourse."

I said nothing. Of course I knew, it was one of the first things I'd looked up on the computer while at Iorwen's apartment. Her constant use of the nickname towards me had been confusing. Needless to say, I had been a little embarrassed when I found out what it meant.

The figure shook his head, "Mortals really are quite amusing at times. Imagine, making up a particular god for each portion of life. Very creative indeed. Yet, aside from Tolkien's creation of the Lord of the Rings books, mankind has never even come close to discovering what really controls this earth. Ah, but I'm rambling. I do have a purpose for being here, princling. Do you wish to hear it or not?"

I ground my teeth in growing aggravation. He was toying with me, I was sure of it. "Speak," I replied, waiting expectantly, "I would like to get some rest some time soon."

I could hear the amusement in the silhouette's voice, "I dare say, Iorwen's impatience and cynicism has begun to rub off on you. But never mind, I am here simply to tell you that…you're headed in the wrong direction."

I wished I could come up with some clever retort to this obviously conjured statement created to upset me, but I found that my tongue seemed to be glued to the roof of my mouth. The silhouette let out another dry chortle and he looked absolutely menacing for a moment, the darkness of his figure and the breeze carrying his black cloak back in a quiet flutter.

"What are you talking about?" Was all I could manage, hoping that the figure was joking. After all, the Valar had frequently been reminding me lately that they were in fact very capable of humor.

"The trail was planted, Greenleaf. We did not wish for you to find her too quickly. You both need time away from each; time to sort your thoughts. And," he paused, "We have our own reasons as well, of course."

"Are you insane?!" I heard myself practically yell, "She could be in danger--No! She _is_ in danger! She knows this land only minutely better than I knew her own. She knows nothing of--"

Abruptly, the figure raised a long black arm and cut me off as effectively as though he'd slapped me in the face.

"Her peril is nothing she can not handle on her own," it said, "We would never purposely allow her to endanger herself."

"Then why in the hell did you let her leave Lothlorien _alone_!" I yelled, reverting to the phrase I'd heard Iorwen use often before. "Your meddling is going to get us both killed," I seethed, actually contemplating what would happen if I shot a deity with an arrow.

"Do not be so short-sighted, Greenleaf. As I told you before, the story is still incomplete in your eyes and already laid out in its entirety to us. Trust us as you once did. Trust."

And with that, he was gone as though he'd never even been there at all.

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I didn't really get any sleep that night. I knew I needed to, but the knowledge that Iorwen was out there somewhere, much farther away from me that I'd originally thought, was a new level of fear for my subconscious. I allowed Caranthir to rest for about four hours before I set out again; this time back in the direction of Lothlorien. I had to start from the beginning again. I kicked myself mentally the entire time, wishing I'd seen how obvious the path was and turned back around. Now, I had to find the original _real_ trail and go from there. I did not even want to think about how long it was going to take me even hurrying as I was. Thinking about the Valar's pathetic trick made me want to scream in fury.

By the time I found her, Iorwen could be…well, I did not much want to think about all the things Iorwen could be by that time. The gruesome list of possibilities seemed almost endless. Gritting my teeth, I quietly commanded Caranthir to take the shortest route back to Lothlorien. The horse seemed mildly confused with this abrupt change of direction, but he obediently did as I had ordered.

I could see very little to hope for as I began the agonizingly long journey back to Lorien, cursing the Valar the entire time as I did so. Hope, however, did eventually present itself to me, but--as per usual--in its own bittersweet way.

On my second day of travel, I was eating lembas bread on Caranthir's back as he picked his way over the rocky ground at the foot of the mountains, when I saw a figure. It was a horse, but I couldn't see the rider from my vantage point. I ordered Caranthir to approach it and as we came closer, I realized that I hadn't been able to see any rider because there was none. My interest peaked, I bid Caranthir to hurry and we galloped across till I could tell that the horse was a nice-looking blue roan. He had a small make-shift saddle on him that had slipped under his belly that was still carrying a bag. His reins were broken and they looked as though the horse had attempted to remove them by rubbing against a tree, for they were rubbed quite thin.

I could tell immediately that the creature was elf-trained. He stood still as I came near, eyes alert and apparently waiting for a command. I dismounted Beriadan, tucking the lembas bread back into the knapsack given to me in Lorien. I approached the horse slowly, examining it as I did so. Immediately I noticed that he was not without injury. His flanks had been scratched with long claw marks that were apparently not deep enough to have hurt him badly, but one of his hocks was swollen and I could tell that the animal had been running for quite some time. Upon closer inspection, I found puncture wounds on his upper neck where he had been attacked. By now I was fairly certain I knew what had happened to this horse. Picking off a long coarse brown hair from the strap of the saddle, I knew. Apparently, wargs were still fairly prominent in middle earth.

Frowning, I unstrapped the saddle and placed it on his back without bothering to cinch the halfway broken girth strap. Untying the sack from the saddle, I pulled the draw string and peered inside. My heart plummeted. I pulled Iorwen's Indian blanket from the sack, wishing I'd found anything but this. Placing the blanket on top of the saddle, I then drew out the small wooden box given to me in the marshes so many weeks ago. There were other things as well; lembas bread mostly and some extra clothes. Stuffing everything back in, I tied it back onto the saddle and attached the saddle so that it firmly hugged the horse's belly. Remounting Caranthir, I took Iorwen's horse's reins and bid him to lead me back where he'd come from. Iorwen's horse leading the way, I silently promised myself that if Iorwen was hurt when I found her, I would be the first to kill an immortal deity.

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:Sorry that took so long after my speedy chapters earlier, but I just recently started my first job. Anyway, I hope you guys liked the chapter and be sure to tell me what you think is gonna happen.

-MusicalCharlatan


	33. The Past and Why It Shouldn't Change

_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter Thirty-Three--The Past and Why It Shouldn't Change

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_Iorwen POV_

The next morning, I awoke, not because of my natural alarm clock, but rather someone's rude and annoying shaking of my frame. Swatting at whoever it was that was shaking me, I tried not to not to think about how sore I was from sleeping on the ground and attempted to flop back into my original sleeping position. However, a rather hard poke to my ribs made me yelp and sit up. I found myself glaring into the triumphant face of Darith, my hair a dirty disheveled mess and my limbs so stiff I could scarcely move them. I felt very pathetic next to Darith who seemed resplendent this morning with his boyish good looks and radiant attitude. I wanted to slap the smile off his face.

"Good morn, Lady Iorwen."

I glanced around and saw immediately that I wasn't the only one still getting up. Captain Falin was gone, but Erinor, Arhem, and Ganem were still around the fire. Ganem was shifting quietly through his provisions sack, Erinor was sleeping on his back with his hand wrapped around a black leather-wrapped knife, and Arhem was buried under a blanket so that all I could see was a tuft of dark brown hair.

I turned back to Darith and narrowed my eyes. The sun hadn't yet risen over the horizon. I wanted to sleep. If he didn't come up with a good explanation fast, there was going to be some serious ass-whooping. Rescuer or no; I didn't put up with unnecessary wake-up calls.

"You had better give me a good reason for waking me up this early, Darith."

He smiled so that a little bit of my irritation melted, but only a little. "Well, we are to depart within the next two hours, so I thought I should wake you up early so you could have some personal time to…I suppose…attend to whatever womanly needs women have before we leave. I did not figure that you would have been able to have a bath when you were stuck in a tree, so I thought you might like to take one in the nearby stream before we leave and don't see another until we have reached the River Gladden."

I stared at him dumbstruck. "Uh, well," I cleared my throat of my sleepy voice, "that's…that's very considerate of you, Darith. I would very much like to. How did you--"

He interrupted me mid-question. "I have four sisters, so I know how women's minds work. And, in truth, this is more for me and my companions than you. There's nothing more trying than an agitated woman on a trip. But, please, take no offense."

"No offense taken," I said, grinning at his blatant statement, "Off to the river I go."

"Stream," Darith corrected me.

"Whatever."

Minutes later, I was trotting through the woods behind Darith, holding a rather pathetic wool blanket that was to be used as a towel and a bar of soap wrapped in wax paper that I noticed had never been opened. He showed me the stream, a slow-moving ribbon of water that at its deepest was three feet and stood back as though proud of himself for some reason.

"Well, there you have it. I'll be on my way. Unless, of course, you wish for company?" He grinned cheekily and I stared at him sternly.

Pretending to be dejected, he huffed off, and I waited until I was sure he was far away before stripping down and ridding myself of my journey's grime. It was not near as bad as the first time I'd washed in Middle Earth. I'd removed about two weeks worth of filth then. Now I just had to untangle my hair, wash off the excess dirt, and soak until my skin went pruney. About twenty minutes later, satisfied with my bath, I got out of the cold water, dressed, combed my hair with my fingers, and hastened back to the campsite.

Once back, I saw that everybody else was up now. Captain Falin still hadn't returned, but Erinor was dressed and sharpening the knife he'd slept holding, and Arhem was sitting on a rock, dressed but tired-looking, apparently trying to wake up. They looked up at my approach. Ganem gave me a tentative smile, Darith looked at me approvingly, Erinor glanced up then went back to his knife, and Arhem stared at me till I had to look away.

"Amazing what a little soap will do for one's appearance," said Darith, eyeing me, "Not that I'm saying you were bad to look at before, my lady, but this is a definite improvement."

"Stow it, Darith," I said, blushing slightly as I placed the blanket and soap next to my sleeping area, "and quit calling me 'lady." It's weird."

"You know what is weird," I turned to see Arhem looking considerably more awake, "Your accent. Can we not beg you to tell us where you are from, La--I mean, Iorwen?"

I shook my head. "No can do. That's for me to know and you to never find out."

Arhem frowned. "Fine. I shall figure it out eventually. My father keeps a room full of maps. I am certain I will think of where you are from eventually."

I smirked. "I doubt that."

He grunted. "I like a challenge. Just give me some time."

Not liking the determination in his voice, I turned away and pretended to look interested in our surroundings. It looked like most of Middle Earth I'd seen thus far, only everything seemed to be getting rougher in quality. The ground had more rocks and the trees had slimmed down till it looked like the only respectable grove of trees left was the one I'd just left. It wasn't barren, but it was clear to me that we were about to be entering into some hilly grasslands. I was immediately reminded of Central Texas.

Shaking my head of thoughts related to home, I went and sat down next to the burned-out fire from the night before and tried to make conversation that would stop me from thinking about my other life.

"So, where is captain Falin?" I asked, looking around.

"Back and with our next move planned out accordingly."

We all glanced up in surprise to see Captain Falin coming up the hill, a grim expression on his face. "It is time to leave, boys. Lady Iorwen, you will ride with Arhem as before, he is by far the best rider out of us all." I didn't understand what that had to do with anything, but I nodded anyway. He continued, "There'll be no fires from now on, and there'll be no overworking the horses."

The men nodded and each set about getting their animals ready to go. I saw my own chance for a job when I noticed that the two pack horses hadn't yet been attended to. I set about getting their light saddles on and strapped each one on to a firm fit. I then began strapping on the supplies that had been piled around their feet earlier that morning. I threw on their saddle bags first and then tied down the blankets and other few supplies the men couldn't put on their own animals. When I was satisfied, I undid the hobbles around their forelegs and extended the reins so they would be easier to hold onto. Darith and Erinor appeared, already mounted, and thankfully took the reins from my hands and led off the animals. Arhem was just a moment behind them and took my hand to help me mount up in front of him. Thanking him, I turned my attention back to the curious state of the company I was in. I'd only been with these men for a little over a day, but I already felt like I knew them.

But the look on Captain Falin's face concerned me. What was it we were approaching that put such dread in him that we could no longer have fires? That, and why was he so specific about not overworking the horses? I knew them to be kind men, but I'd never figured Falin for the kind that would give such explicit orders over their health.

I didn't find out why though for quite a while. Our traveling was downright slow in comparison to my time with the elves--mostly due to the fact that as soon as a horse started to sweat we had to stop--but it was still much safer than my traveling alone had been. It took us almost three days to get within 40 miles of their village. It was still a long day's trip though, so we decided it was best to bed down once darkness fell. It was nearing dusk when we stopped at the base of a cliff that had a path driven through its center like a jagged wound. Instead of continue through as I thought they would, the men began setting up camp. Seeing them set down their packs and unsaddle their horses, I stood confusedly at the mouth of the passage through the cliff. Arhem had quickly dropped me off and went off to do whatever it was he did before we ate. His abruptness was worrisome to me. The men all moved away from me; away from the pathway. They did not look at the cliff, did not talk about it, and they certainly didn't go anywhere near it.

I watched as each hardened face began setting about their individual tasks. Hefting up the blanket and men's clothes they'd given me, I settled myself down at the customary circle that was inevitably formed around our now invisible fire, no longer bothering to try and find someway to help, seeing as how they always told me to stay put. So, instead, I began mentally rummaging through explanations related to this new, strange behavior on their part.

After contemplating this for a good ten minutes and coming up as clueless as I had been before, I sighed and went ahead and laid down, content to leave them to their strangeness. No doubt it was just some kind of stupid village superstition that prevented them from going through tunnels when a woman was present or something retarded like that, so I forgot about it until they returned and supper was ready.

Arhem sat down next to me as he usually did, Darith on my other side, looking much more solemn than was customary, with Captain Falin, Ganem, and Erinor all silently sitting on the other side, eating the cold soup and bread we'd lately had to accustom ourselves to. I kept waiting for a moment when I could work up the courage to break through the awkward barrier and ask them why they were acting this way, but I couldn't force the words through my lips. Captain Falin still intimidated me a little (as did the rest of them when they were this quiet) and I didn't feel like stepping on any toes.

We ate in complete silence till Captain Falin stood up suddenly and disappeared. Feeling that this was a chance for at least a mildly safe conversation, I spoke up, "Where's the captain going?"

They didn't look at me. Everyone seemed very intent on their empty bowls. Realizing that there was no way I could weasel an answer out of them, I sighed and laid back on my sack of clothes and stared up at the sky. It seemed so much cleaner here, like as though in my world there had been some kind of shield over the stars and their brightness. But then again, I had never really paid a whole lot of attention to the stars back in Atlanta.

I fell asleep like that, and I dreamt that I was in Lothlorien again. But the strange thing was, I was inside the great tree where the lord and lady used to live before they left for Valinor. I did not in fact have any knowledge of what it looked like in real life but in the dream I just sort of _knew_ that that was where I was. Soon enough, I noticed Legolas appear at my right, and I turned to tell him to leave. But he wasn't the same. He looked…dimmer was the only way I could think to describe it. The natural glow that always seemed to radiate from his presence was missing. His eyes seemed cloudy, and he looked far too…normal. Immediately I noticed that he was wearing the same clothes I'd gotten him back in East Texas. I found myself gaping at him, until finally I found the explanation for it all. His ears were completely round. I didn't say anything--couldn't say anything.

Suddenly, he was in front of me, and I saw that he was smiling at me. He took my hands and held them firmly. "Iorwen, see what I have done for you? Do you see my mortality? I will die with you, Iorwen. I will die, too."

I tried to break free of his hands, to shake him off, to get away.

"No. You can't do that. That's why I left. Go away. Be a prince again, Legolas. I don't want to kill you."

"Iorwen, wake up!" My eyes flew open, and I found myself pinned down by Arhem, his anxious eyes looking at me with obvious concern. "Iorwen, what is the matter? Are you okay?"

I let our an unsteady breath and tried to nod in reassurance. Arhem released me and grabbed a water skin and handed it to me. "Here, calm down. Drink this."

I sat up shakily and took the water. "I'm sorry for waking you," I said in embarrassment, between gulps.

He ignored me and tentatively brushed my hair back from my face as I drank. "What is wrong? Why were you pushing me away in your sleep?"

"Pushing you away?" I asked in confusion.

If it hadn't been so dark, I could have sworn he blushed. "Well, you sort of curled up next to me when you fell asleep. The men are going to give me no end of trouble about it. But never mind that, who is this Legolas and why are you so terrified that you will kill him?"

It was my turn to blush. "You heard all that?"

He nodded. "If you do not wish to tell me then I will understand."

The idea of telling someone actually seemed nice. Settling myself, I sighed and looked at him with an expression somewhere between anxiousness and fear. "He's just one of the elves I left when I ran away from Lothlorien."

"Ran away? I thought you said you simply departed their company?" Arhem asked, looking surprised, "Why would you run away?"

"I couldn't stay. I--I know this will sound weird, but there was a…plan to join myself and this elf," Arhem blinked rapidly, "But if I'd stayed, he would have died with me after I had."

"You mean, fade away?" Arhem said, surprising me.

"How did you--" I began.

"Everyone knows that is how it happens with immortals and mortals. All except for the Lady Arwen and King Aragorn."

Feeling that I'd misheard him, I blurted out, "What?"

Arhem looked at me sagely, "Have you not heard? The Lord Aragorn would have died if it had not been for the intervention of the gods. He still lives with his lady and their children in the city of Minas Tirith."

My mind was reeling. None of this made any sense. That wasn't how it was supposed to have happened. Aragorn died and Arwen was supposed to have wandered around in the woods until she died and then white flowers grew over her grave, right? Or had I misread? What on earth was going on here?

"Arhem, are you sure that's what happened?"

Arhem nodded, "Of course, I am sure. The king would have been dead long ago had he and the lady not been gifted so kindly by the gods. They still tell stories and sing of the day a figure appeared in the great hall atop Minas Tirith and gave the king eternal life."

I shook my head. "But that's not right. I don't remember it happening that way."

"What are you talking about, Iorwen?" Arhem said, looking at me as though I was some kind of unknown foreign species. But then again, I guess I was just that.

The next day we were up before sunrise and prepared to pass through the cliff before the sun had even touched the tops of the trees. I hadn't gotten a very good night's sleep, contemplating everything I'd learned from Arhem, so I was barely awake when I mounted behind him and we finally started our trip along the path through the cliff. It wasn't long after we started that I finally figured out why the men had been so touchy the night before. Once we finally exited the tunnel through the rock face, all the men dismounted and came to stand in front of a mound of dirt that was surrounded evenly by white rocks.

Each man stood reverently in front of the grave for a few minutes before touching their chest in recognition and remounting. I had no idea what to do. When they were finished, I simply mounted up behind Arhem and we continued on without speaking a word for several hours. Finally, I couldn't take it any more. Once Arhem and I were significantly behind the others, I asked him.

Looking old and weary, Arhem answered, "His name was Urol." I remembered immediately having heard that name when they were speaking after they killed the warg. "Everyone from our village knows everyone else, so his loss was especially painful to bear. He was Erinor's little brother."

I glanced sadly at Erinor who looked stiff and erect on his horse. It figured that he would deal with sorrow by ignoring it. "Were ya'll too far away from the village to return and bury him?"

Arhem looked at me oddly for a moment at the use of the word "ya'll", but he seemed to understand. "We were not too far, we were just occupied at the time. We have been hunting the wolves for the past three weeks now. They attacked our sister village, Turen, four weeks ago and they asked for our help in disposing of the beasts. We feared for our own safety as well and knew that if they attacked Turen, it was possible they would return and do the same to us. And Turen has many of our friends and family there as well. It was only sensible that we should hunt down the wolves. But we have not succeeded as well as we'd hoped. We are not sure how the other hunting groups have done, but we, ourselves, have had to allow several wolves to escape. All we can hope is that they do not return. But once we reach the village and have had some time to recuperate, we will return to the hills to help our fellow hunters."

"Oh," I said stupidly, wishing I could help ease their pain somehow. Instead, I remained quiet, contemplating all these things and more besides in my head until we reached the village called Ren.

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:whew! I know that took me an ungodly amount of time, but I have lived up to my promise, have I not. Anyway, PLEASE review. I miss all your impatient commentary! Tell me what you think about all of this.

-MusicalCharlatan


	34. No Pain, No Love

_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter Thirty-Four--No Pain, No Love

:I'm going to note early on that some of my ideas about the elves may be complete conjecture, but only because I can not seem to find the answer I need in any of Tolkien's writings. Some of the things I have used and will use are deviations of ideas that I have read in other fics and liked, so they may not be strictly accurate. If any of you have a piece of advice on some of my canon then do tell, but don't be surprised if I don't necessarily use it, b/c I noted in my summary that some of this story is definitely going to have to be AU. It's too hard for me to get the kind of story that I want and get complete canon. Obviously, since this is a girl-drops-into-middle-earth fic, but I do try to be as canon as possible. Anyway, read on.

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_Legolas POV_

It's impossible to describe the mix of emotions that spun through my mind on my journey to track down Iorwen and stop her before she got herself killed. After the overwhelming anxiety of knowing that she was alone without protection in my dangerous world finally began to ebb back into manageable pieces, there was a number of other things that commanded my attention as I rode Caranthir harshly over the plains of East Emnet. The second most obvious was the sudden change in my circumstances from the last time I could remember traveling across Middle Earth. After the War of the Ring, I'd headed home from Gondor. But that seemed like a life age ago. Had it truly only been a few months since I'd laid my head down on my pillow inside my own room for the first time in what had been a year...and then fallen through it like it was air to land on top of a tractor in East Texas?

Wow, but it did sound utterly ridiculous. The Valar were truly creative--I could give them that. Who else would have thought to send the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen to an anti-social, confused, ambitious, solitary woman like Iorwen? I certainly would not have been able to see any kind of connection. In fact, I still did not truly understand it--that is, the reason why I liked her presence despite her oftentimes infuriating personality. She was reckless, foolhardy, stubborn, and generally rather difficult to get along with, yet here I was--racing across the East Emnet to find a woman who didn't want anything to do with me apparently. And even if I did manage to catch up to her (and I vowed to myself that I would), how could I possibly convince her that I hadn't meant a single thing that I'd said? There was no way to take back the words that I'd used to blame her. None of this was her fault...I knew that. But now how could I now convince _her_ of that?

Each day that passed seemed to drain me of much-needed energy. I was beginning to feel vestiges of what closely resembled the illness I'd contracted in Emyn Muil. That was another thing that confused me. I'd never been sick before in all my years, which was obviously not uncommon for elves. But then that meant that I had found the only disease that an elf was capable of having...I had begun to fade.

The lack of light and other elves, the pain, and the suffocating air--apparently it had all added up to utter despair. My fevered ramblings to Iorwen was proof enough of that. So, why then, had I not died?

The only hope I'd had, I was barely aware of most of the time. How could Iorwen's presence have benefited me if I could barely even remember her in all that time I had been in the bowels of Emyn Muil?

My breath caught in my throat as the answer struck me. Caranthir came to a stop and could apparently sense my consternation and shock, for he began to pace nervously as I fought to regain my sanity.

"Rhaich!" (curses!) I hissed, suddenly understanding all the convoluted energy and feelings that had been plaguing me ever since the night I'd saved Iorwen at the party. Panic washed over me as I realized what all this meant.

A sudden overwhelming desire and _need_ to see her, to hold her, to know that she was okay descended upon me as though all my anxious emotions had taken notice of my sudden recognition and thought it prudent to make it clear to me how true and irrevocable it all was now. I noticed passively that my limbs were shaking almost violently as my body seemed to make a very physical reaction to my epiphany.

I had heard of this happening before among my people; of the unusual and abrupt physical ailments that came with the thought connection. It was supposed to be rare. None of this mattered, however. All that mattered now was finding Iorwen before I lost the one woman who could potentially be the other half of my soul.

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_Iorwen POV_

I don't really remember my initial impression of the village of Ren seeing as how I was about 95 asleep when we arrived. We were probably only about an hour away from the village when my body began to realize that I had been traveling for about three days with only about four hours of sleep. The night before, I had stayed up all night thinking on what Arhem had told me about Aragorn and Arwen, worrying and wracking my brain over what it meant. And the night before that, Darith had woken me up early after going to sleep late the night before.

I don't remember how I came to be _in front _of Arhem, but apparently when I began to fall off the horse from exhaustion he set me in front of him and let me sleep on his chest. I remember at some point being lifted from the horse and carried somewhere. I could smell Arhem's woodsy scent and feel the warmth of his chest against my face and body. Then I heard voices; a woman's voice and--what I later presumed to have been Arhem's voice--as well. Finally, I was laid down on a scratchy mattress and everything went black again.

The next morning, I opened my eyes to see a small wooden bed stand in front of my face. I laid there studying it, examining the carved horse heads in its surface and thinking about how familiar those designs seemed. After lying there for a while, out-of-sorts and confused, wondering how it was that I got there, I sat up slowly and swung my legs over the edge of what appeared to be a straw mattress and scrutinized the room around me. The walls and floors were entirely made of what seemed to be oak planks and there was only one window behind me over the little mattress. The floor was deeply worn and had scuffs in it from feet traversing it for years upon years. There was nothing extraordinary about the room except for that the one wall across from the bed was covered entirely in charcoal drawings. There was a trunk against that wall and on top of it were stacks upon stacks of parchment that varied in size, color, and texture. Next to the stacks was a canister of charcoal pencils of various lengths and wads of charcoal-stained rags.

I stood slowly and wandered over the to pictures in a kind of awe, wondering who could be so patient and talented to create so many works of art. I stood in front of the wall, looking over each picture as carefully as I could, examining the landscape portraits, human portraits, and various created buildings that all seemed to have different tactics employed in their creation. I whistled and noticed that most of the portraits seemed to be of a young man with short curly hair and a strong nose. His jaw was wide and angular with tiny little delicate ears that seemed at odds with the rest of his appearance. His eyes were big though and had straight thick eyebrows over them that were usually turned up in amusement. There was one picture of him I saw though that was in the upper corner of the wall. The paper was large and showed the young man looking downcast and troubled.

I studied the wall for a while longer before turning back to the bed and seeing my sack of clothes on the floor. I opened up the bag and was surprised to see that were now several thin linen dresses within it in place of the men's clothes Captain Falin and the others had given to me. I lifted up one of the dresses and was pleased to see that it was my size and wasn't like what I would have imagined women of a village would wear. It was a dress sure enough but there were no starched collars, buttons, or stiff sleeves. It was loose and long with a large scoop neck and meager embroidery around the bodice in a light green. I slipped the dress on and put on my suede boots that Earane had given me and walked out of the room uncertainly, wondering where on earth Arhem and the boys were.

Outside the room was one large open room with a little kitchen at the far back and a space beyond the kitchen table that had two mattresses in it. Next to the kitchen was a wing extending off with more rooms, but I couldn't see how many. There was another room to my right next to my own and I slipped past it to go out the front door which was open onto a little fenced yard with a bramble of vegetables and shrubs growing in it. A large vine was growing onto the house so thickly that it almost stopped the door from closing and I took a moment to admire it.

It was while I was staring stupidly up at the massive vine that a woman spoke up behind me and nearly gave me heart failure.

"I shall have to cut it back eventually."

I started and spun to see a stout little woman who was wiping off her dirt-covered hands on a bedraggled apron. She smiled at my surprise and my heart instantly calmed. She sighed and looked up at the vine, "But I just don't have the heart to do it...not yet at least." Wiping off her hands, she held one out, "Hello, Iorwen. My name is Lianen. I am Arhem's mother."

I shook her hand, a little stunned. "It's nice to meet you. Did Arhem--I mean, did he just--?"

"Arhem is down at the river with his older sister," she replied, reading my mind, "hopefully helping her with the laundry and not fishing like he always used to do. He dropped you off in his sister's room last night after the boys returned." _Ahhh, so __**that**__ was who made all of those drawings_, "Ha--I call them boys, but I should stop doing that. They are doing men's work now I suppose. It does not help though that I remember them all when they were stealing figs out of their mother's gardens." She chuckled and gestured towards the garden where I could see a row of green beans with freshly churned dirt underneath them, "Which, would you mind helping me weed out some of this poor overgrown garden? My knees are not so tough as they used to be."

"Sure. Of course," I said, thinking back to when I and my own mother used to plant all around the house and weed it out every week just for fun. As an afterthought, I apologized for having taken her daughter's bedroom the night before.

"Oh, no. Do not worry about that, Merenwen would not have slept last night anyway." Lianen suddenly looked sad.

Lianen didn't comment further, only headed back towards the rows of plants. For the next hour or so I helped her weed the garden and transplant a few little offshoots of plants that had sprouted up underneath the others in hopes that they might survive and grow to be as big as their parents. My fingernails were soon covered in dirt and I tried valiantly to keep the dress from getting dirty and was successful save for a few little dirt smudges that were hardly noticeable anyway.

I examined the rest of the village as we worked and was pleased to see a quaint collection of little houses like Lianen's that had gardens and small open stables. Horses roamed about the village, unfettered and ill-motivated to run away anyway, grazing where they pleased and leaving piles of manure. At one point, Lianen took up a pitchfork and picked up several piles of manure and spread them throughout the garden, using it as fertilizer. In several other yards, there were women doing the same. Around noon, the children came away from their houses after doing their chores and began to play in the dirt street that went through the middle of the village. One of the boys had a ball of tightly wrapped leather that he and his buddies kicked all about the street while the little girls sat in one of the lady's garden and made little stick dolls with leaves for dresses and little hats made out of the heads of flowers. Eventually, I saw Erinor come out of the house across from Arhem's and leave on his horse with all of his provisions including his knife and bow with a quiver full of newly-fletched arrows. He galloped out of the village without looking back once, and I watched as the old woman who walked out behind him stood in the yard crying. One of the older boys who had stopped to watch Erinor go went back to the woman in the yard and spoke words to her that I couldn't quite hear. The woman who I assumed was his mother stroked her son's head and held him tight.

"Poor Remen," I heard Lianen say under her breath, "She's already lost one son and now Erinor will get himself killed over his brother."

I looked back to the woman and realized that Remen was Urol's mother. Erinor had returned to the wild without the rest of the men. He intended to hunt down the wargs on his own. Lianen was right. Erinor was going to die over revenge.

An hour later, I spotted three figures coming up the street. At first I ignored them and continued to struggle with the large weed that had embedded itself next to a tomato vine. I finally gave up and looked up to see Arhem with a girl who I assumed was his sister and a boy that trailed behind them holding a basket of clothes and a washboard. Merenwen, a pretty brunette with clear blue eyes and light freckles, looked stiff and almost mannequin-like in her movements. Her eyes were slightly puffy and her skin was pink from emotion. But other than that there didn't seem to be any character to the way she moved. Arhem kept glancing at her nervously and the boy behind them looked anxious as well. He kept tripping up on the ground because he wasn't paying attention to his feet and he very nearly dropped the basket once when he was looking at Arhem and Merenwen and caught the basket on the edge of the fence. The trio passed silently into the house and Lianen followed quietly behind them, bidding me to follow.

When I walked in, I immediately saw that my sack of clothes was outside Merenwen's room, roughly thrown aside and the door closed with a thud. Lianen sighed and turned to the boy with messy black hair and the basket and told him to leave everything inside and he was free to go play with his friends. The boy glanced once at Merenwen's door, then at me, and then back at Arhem and his mother and scampered out of the house. Arhem finally saw me and gave me a weak smile. He turned back to his mother and shrugged his shoulders. "I stayed with her the entire time, mother. She does not seem...mournful. She is just...without emotion. I think she will be fine eventually, but not now...and probably not soon."

Lianen nodded and glanced at her daughter's door. "Thank you, Arhem. I'm glad you're home. Now, go attend to your guest. She has been stuck with myself all morning and has not even seen you since you both arrived last night."

Arhem nodded and bid me follow him as he left the house and closed the door behind him. Once outside the house, Arhem looked sadly at me and apologized. "I did not mean to be away for so long, but my sister is very sick. I had to tell her about Urol's death last night before another told her. They were engaged to be married. She loved Urol more than she could ever express vocally. She drew him all the time though. They were inseparable from the time they were seventeen on. I do not know if she will ever recover. My mother is worried she will do a harm to herself."

I glanced back at the house and it all added up. All the pictures on the wall, the young man with the big eyes and curly hair...

Urol and Merenwen. It was a romantic tragedy if ever I'd heard one...

"I'm sorry, Arhem." I replied, not knowing what to say.

He sighed and drew me away from the house. "Do not think on it. She will heal eventually. It will be a scar she will forever bear, but she will live. Now come, I have made you sad and am sorry for it. I will show you the Gladden."

Glad to get away from the mourning that soaked the air of Lianen's home, I followed Arhem.

The river was not far off from the center of the village, in fact many of the homes were close to the banks. As we walked closer to the river, I noticed for the first time that there seemed to be a massive construction project going out outside the village. Around the perimeter of the small dwelling, men had gathered to create a fence. It was made entirely out of full stout logs cut to about seven feet in length and then sharpened at the tip. The logs had been driven into the ground as close together as possible and the men were currently reinforcing them with more slanted logs. Ditches were also being dug on either side of the fence. I eyed the construction with nothing short of awe. I hadn't seen men create something so massive before without machines to aid them. It was all just a big reminder that I was no longer home and wouldn't be going back anytime soon.

Arhem noticed my staring and gave grim explanation. "After the warg attacks on our sister village, we all agreed that we have become lazy concerning our protection. We will erect a fence surrounding the village and use sentries from now on." Arhem turned to me with a dour expression, "Our fathers finished the war long ago, but evil will never be far from our doorstep..." He turned away and began walking again. "It is the way of the world."

Without my realizing it, we arrived at the river. I stood there admiring it for a moment, when all of the sudden a streak of white and brown seemed to fly past my head with a loud whoop. Startled, I gaped as I watched Arhem hit the water like a stone from a slingshot and resurface a moment later, sputtering water and looking positively radiant. I noticed that he had somehow managed to rip off his shirt before he had hurled himself into the water and I forced myself to look at his face as he swam back to the shore and hauled himself back up beside me.

"That felt good. Water always did put me in a fine mood." He said, staring off into the distance beyond the Gladden.

I sat there uncomfortably for a while as he dripped water all over, gloriously unaware of how much he was affecting my unstable romantic state. I suddenly tried to imagine what Legolas would look like in his place and before I knew it, my face was completely red and Arhem was staring at me with a goofy grin.

It was very quiet a while, both of us simply listening to the world when suddenly Arhem spoke again. "Why did you leave him?" Arhem's joyful eyes were suddenly very solemn as they gazed at me.

At first, I played stupid. "Left who?"

"The elf...the one you mentioned. Why did you leave him? You always avoid talking about the life you had before we found you. But elves are not know for being cruel, so I can not figure why you would leave them when the had so obviously accepted you as one of their own."

I scoffed weakly. "And what makes you think that?"

Arhem looked at me very matter-of-factly, "They dressed you in their garments, gave you food, even allowed you one of their horses. No one does that for a person they do not accept or care about."

There was a lot of truth to what Arhem said, but he didn't know the whole story and I'd be damned if I was the one who told him. But I also knew that there was only so much you could keep secret from people if you wanted to assimilate among them and be treated equal. If I was going to turn back into a normal human, then I needed to allow my new life a glimpse of my old one.

"Things...got complicated," I said, my voice quivering slightly when I thought back to the day I'd slipped out of Lothlorien like a thief in the night...like a coward.

Arhem replied patiently, "How so?"

I closed my eyes and bent my head low; in my mind imagining a pale figure who embodied everything that I was not. "I almost let myself fall in love with someone who could never love me in the same way..." I opened my eyes and looked across the river, "That's how."

To my confusion, Arhem's voice had no sound of surprise in it. "I think I actually suspected as much..."

"What?" I turned to look at him, "How?"

"Well," Arhem shifted his body and smoothed back his wet brown hair, "I didn't really believe my instinct until I saw my sister last night. You have some of her look in your eyes, as if you've lost something that you know you can never hope to have again or replicate." He glanced at me apologetically as though he had seen something that he shouldn't have.

Without warning, the bone-rattling cry of a massive horn sounded over the village, alerting anyone within a five mile distance. But of what, I had no idea. Arhem leapt to his feet, white chest gleaming in the sun as water continued to fall off his frame. I glanced behind me in alarm where the men had been working on the fence. One man stood alone in a tower over the fence, continuing to blow fiercely on the horn that made me tremble as it screamed to the villagers.

"What the--what's going--?"

Without a second's hesitation, Arhem sprinted away toward the fence, not even bothering to grab the linen tunic that he'd carelessly thrown on the banks of the river. He called out to me over his shoulder as he ran, "Go back to my home, Iorwen. Stay with my family."

I stood there dumbly as he ran away, wondering what on earth could be so urgent that he would simply run off like that. Grabbing his shirt, I hiked my way back to Lianen's home, surprised to see that everywhere women were scooping up their children with fear-stricken faces and running into their homes with long wooden staves in hand. Lianen stood at the gate of her home, a long staff in hand. Behind her, the boy who I assumed was Arhem's little brother tried to see what was going on at the fence. "Please, mother! I can help if you'd only let me!"

"No!" Lianen growled fiercely at him as he tried to get around her, "Your brother would be distracted by your presence and furthermore you are simply too young!"

Lianen saw me and looked relieved. "Oh, good. Iorwen, dear, into the house. It's the only place to hide after the Great Hall burned down a year ago." She ushered us inside and I watched in trepidation as Lianen's trembling hands barred the door of the house with a thick board. Lianen turned to her youngest son and place her hands on his shoulders, all the while looking at him sternly. "Eorl, listen to me carefully, I want you to go all along the inside of the house and make sure there are no open windows or doors. The house must be sealed as best it can."

Eorl nodded tersely and took off into the wing next to the kitchen. Lianen turned to me solemnly, "Iorwen, I know you must be confused. The horn that was sounded warns us of incoming danger. It is probably more wargs, angered by their losses from the hands of our men."

I shook inwardly at the thought of wargs. My mind instantly reverted to that day in the woods when Beriadan had escaped and I'd nearly been ripped to shreds.

"Now, I hope to the gods we need not use them, but in that room there--" Lianen pointed to the door beside the room I'd woken up in, "you will find my late husband's weapons. There are quite a few knives that you should not find too difficult to use should you need to. And please, hurry."

I nodded and hurried into the room. It was bright inside. A window on the far side was open and the light spilled onto tables piled with maps, scrolls, and books of varying sizes. Hanging on the walls were a number of long swords, daggers, and other ornamental weaponry that hardly looked capable of holding a keen edge much less be used in actual combat. Running my eyes quickly over the weapons that were obviously too old or too heavy for me to use, I finally cast my eyes on a set of long knives hanging above an old oak table. The blades looked curiously non-man-made, I noted as I lifted them off their metal wall hangings.

Luckily already sheathed in their leather scabbards, I threw the weapons over my shoulder, not bothering with strapping them on, and hastily exited the room. I felt positively stupid holding two weapons I didn't even know how to use, but I tried to assure myself that I wouldn't have to use them. Going back into the middle room, I looked around for Lianen. She was nowhere in sight. Turning right, I saw with some amount of shock, Eorl disappearing through the front door with a quiver strapped on his back and a short bow in hand.

"Hey!" I managed to bark at him once before he saw me and hastily slipped through the door and ran off down the street. Now, I wasn't sure, but I was fairly certain that that was the exact thing Lianen had told him _not _to do.

I called for Lianen twice, but she didn't come. Standing in the room in indecision I finally cursed and broke through the door after him. I burst through the garden and could see his little black head bobbing along on the way to the outer walls.

"Eorl!"

He didn't stop.

Ahead, I could see men swarming about their unfinished fences and towers, attempting to make the village as impenetrable as possible. There was more movement beyond that that I couldn't understand. Beyond the half-finished fences, I heard a succession of rumbling barks and growls that made my hair stand up on the nape of my neck. Shuddering with a trill of fear, I broke off after the boy again, knowing that if that boy wanted to live past the age of 15 he needed to get back to his mother's home before he became kibbles and bits.

I ignored the knives bouncing heavily on my back and kept an eye out for those monstrous dogs just in case. I called Eorl's name once again, but he wouldn't slow. I swore to myself that when I caught the boy--if he wasn't already killed by the wolves--I'd skin him myself and use him as a gruesome cape. Suddenly, the boy vanished between two houses where he turned off the path. I growled in impatience and followed. I dodged around a cart full of hay and saw the boy vanish once again behind a large pile of logs that were just a little while earlier being used for the fence surrounding the village.

Muttering all kinds of dark curses that only a person fluent in spanish, creole, and redneck would have understood, I darted off after him. Rounding the pile of wood, I nearly tumbled backwards when I came face to face, not with a young boy about five foot nothing, but a rather towering god of a man that was placed precisely in my way. At first I was startled, but then I quickly became aggravated when I realized he was preventing me from passing and getting to the damned boy. On either side of him were obstacles; the logs on one and a small barn on the opposite.

It baffled me how he had managed to appear in the alley without my having seen him before. He was so tall I surely could have seen him before I took after Eorl again.

"Excuse me, Goliath, but I need to get past."

"David and Goliath. What a fantastic Bible tale. Tell me, when first did you hear of it?"

I was so stunned it took me a moment to raise my head enough to look at the man before me fully. If I'd really looked at him before, I would have been forced to stop. He was nearly 6 foot 7 with long brown hair pulled back neatly at the nape of his neck. His garments were simple, typical wear of the time: leather and worn cloth with dark boots and a long cloak that would have enveloped me had I worn it. But it was his face that stunned me. A pair of cunning golden eyes stared down at me from under a high regal brown. His thin pallid lips began to form a very intimidating smirk that I found highly disturbing and just a wee bit threatening.

"Hello, Iorwen. My name is Salmar. I act now as the mouth of the Valar. Will you hear what they have to say?"

I promptly clamped my mouth shut as it had been hanging open like a broken door hinge. Eorl had never left the house. I'd been chasing some kind of apparition. And here was the vision from my dreams in real form. Hesitantly, I unclamped my mouth and asked, "What do you want?"

"Ah, yes. Always, it is the first question. Tell me, Iorwen, what makes you think the Valar _want_ or _need_ for anything?"

"Listen, I don't know why you freaks brought me here against my will, but it's obvious that ya'll want _something._ It doesn't make any sense to me why you geniuses think me and Legolas is a good idea--and that is the plan, right? Some retarded matchmaker scheme a bunch of bored deities cooked up just for the hell of it? Or maybe this is all punishment for something that I did in a past life. I don't know. Anyway, the point is--I am NOT going to play along anymore. Got it?"

The "man" smiled to reveal gleaming white teeth. I blanched as I watched his two normal human canines begin to elongate till they were not unlike something a vampire would sport. "It is precisely this spirit that made you perfect for this, Iorwen. Your will and stubbornness is one of the exact reasons _you_ were chosen among the billions of others. But did you ever think that what the Valar are attempting to do with your destiny is not something bad that you should resist?"

I shook my head. "I've had way too many people tell me that they just had my best interest at heart and ended up somewhere I never wanted to be."

"We are not people, Iorwen." Salmar answered, and the way he said it was positively hair-raising.

Working up the courage to continue speaking, I choked out another sardonic question that was sure to eventually result in my ass getting kicked.

"Then why do ya'll keep meddling in people's lives then?"

Salmar gave me a cool, stern look and his irksome grin evaporated. "As an unknown painter manipulates the colors of his masterpiece, so shall we."

It was mildly disturbing to think about the Earth being nothing but some kind of oversized playground for a bunch of god-children. "Who is it really that's behind all of this?" I persisted, not willing to believe that a some gods were simply interested in mine and Legolas' wellbeing.

The creepy smile returned. "You're not following the rules of the game, Iorwen."

"How can I follow them if I don't know what they are?" I practically spit.

"You will," he sneered, "And you will play the game. Even when you don't think you are...you are."

I can't say that I've ever wanted to physically hurt a god before. I've gotten seriously pissed at The God back in my Baptist childhood days, but never actually at a real god literally right in front of me.

"You don't understand," I hissed through gritted teeth, "NO MORE. You all have been nothing but trouble. I want my old life back. I wish none of this had ever happened."

"Horseshit."

I was so stunned to hear a demi-god cuss that I shut up entirely. There had been no inflection or conviction in the word; just a matter-of-fact statement that I later on realized was probably only used to get me to shut up. "You will never convince a single Vala that you did not want to meet Legolas somewhere deep within you. You lie because you feel that the Aratar simply do not know what they are doing and that the prince is only a delectable treat swinging over your head that can never be attained."

Aside from the disturbing analogy of Legolas being a treat, Salmar had correctly pinpointed exactly how I felt. In my opinion, someone up there had fucked up royally. It has been known to happen before after all. And the short truth of it was that there was some gorgeous she-elf out there who was perfectly suited to the prince of Mirkwood, and I was just a blemish on the face of a world I didn't belong to. That was the truth.

"Get the hell out of my sight."

I said it so quietly and bitterly that, even at his close proximity, I was surprised that Salmar managed to hear me.

Sitting down against the pile of logs in the alley, I crowded my head into my arms and only sat there. I thought nothing of wargs, or Eorl, or Arhem, or the village of Ren. I thought of my mother and father, of my grandparents, of my sister, of Marian and Frodo, of my home America, of TV dinners and drive-thrus, of DVDs and computers, of my father's guitar and my photographs, of classic rock and muscle cars, of movies and albums, of Texas and Antlanta, and all the things that--for the first 20 years or so of my life--had defined who I was as a human being amidst the culture of my people. And then I thought of Legolas and how at some point he became so prevalent in my life that he had become virtually more important that all the other things I cared about. That was why I left Lothlorien. He had become dangerous to me and I to him. I didn't want any more pain and I certainly didn't want love. That's what I repeated to myself over and over again in the empty alley between the logs and the barn until my tears could no longer flow and my voice was so raspy it was barely a whisper.

I did not want pain and I did not want love. And one never came without the other.

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:Long time coming, but here it is. I've worked my ass off all night tonight to bring you this little piece of angst, so I hope you all enjoy! Review, please!


	35. Silver in the Dark

_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter Thirty-Five--Silver in the Dark

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_Iorwen POV_

For the next two weeks, things were as normal for me as they'd ever been in Middle Earth. Mostly, I helped Lianen around her home, gardening, scrubbing clothes, feeding the animals...it wasn't entirely unlike being back at my grandparents' house for the weekend. I got to know Eorl a little, and realized he was about the same as any boy I might have known back at home. He was pretentious, hasty, and a bit of a know-it-all, so we got along fine. Lianen would send he and I out to gather water, always glancing sadly at her daughter's door as she did so; no doubt wishing Merenwen was of the mind to do it and not I.

The little family was a sad, broken affair that Lianen seemed to be desperately trying to hold together. I could see it straining her. Urol's death coupled with the death of her husband had been like throwing salt into a festering wound. Her face seemed to be becoming more drawn and haggard with each day. She would strive to make good meals when we got together in the evenings and then start some kind of conversation in the hopes it would draw in Merenwen.

"Arhem," she started off one night, "How is the progress on the wall?"

Arhem looked up from his stew looking mildly surprised. "Uh, fine...fine, mother. Harabad anticipates that we need only another week to complete its basic standing. Once finished, wargs shall have to grow wings before they can ever conceive of attacking the village."

Lianen nodded, "Good, good..."

She glanced at Merenwen who was only staring placidly at her bowl as though she was looking into a mirror. Lianen sighed and bit her lip for a moment before begging her daughter to eat. Ever since our return, I hadn't seen Merenwen take a single bite of food. I wasn't sure how she was surviving, but then again, she was hardly doing that. Every day she was thinner, paler, more sickly. I found myself anticipating, on a regular basis, word of her death.

"Merenwen...dear. Will you not eat? You must eat, daughter." Lianen pleaded, practically on the edge of tears.

Merenwen didn't even look up at her mother; simply took up the wooden spoon by her bowl and took a tentative sip. Lianen stared at her daughter with an emotion somewhere between pity and complete horror before turning back to her food, her eyes a little dewier than they had been a moment before. Next to me, Arhem tried to avert his eyes from his mother's hopeless features and ended up looking at me. I gave him a sad glance that I knew did nothing for how he felt and went back to eating.

I would glance periodically at Merenwen, trying to pinpoint what exactly it was in her ghostly facade of a face that reminded him of me. I knew that whatever he saw had to be far less extreme than what was in Merenwen. I would look at her and know deep within me that, despite physical appearance, Merenwen was already dead. There was no need to worry about her committing suicide. There was no use in killing yourself if you were already as stone cold as the grave. And I would have wagered that Merenwen knew this. It was also probably the only reason she wasn't buried rotting next to Urol's corpse already.

It was after one of these depressing, traumatic dinners that I discovered I was missing something from my bag. I was about to fall asleep on the little mattress in the family area that Lianen had set up for me when I noticed I couldn't find the tiny ring I'd had ever since falling into Middle Earth. It was just a slender little silver thing with an "I" on it; the only jewelry I'd been wearing that night when I was taken from Atlanta. It was nothing special; just some cheap, soon-to-turn-my-finger-green ring I'd bought from Claire's one day at the mall because it was only 99 cents. But for a moment, I panicked.

It was just a dumb cheap ring, but it was another small piece of my world and there was no way I was going to part with it easily.

I dumped out my bag on the mattress, searching desperately for it in the bottom and amidst the contents of the stuff Arhem had gathered for me in replace of my men's wear I'd had before. I started to get teary as I threw my clothes around, heart hammering against my ribs like some bird trying to beat its way out of a cage.

"No, no, no," I panted, one the edge of weepy tears. "Fuck--fuck--goddamn, motherfucking...no--no, where in the hell is it?!"

I'd already lost my beloved blanket and my old pajamas when Beriadan had run away. I didn't think I could stand it if another of my normal worldly possessions disappeared. A hopeful thought struck me then, and I glanced doubtfully at Merenwen's door where she had already retreated after dinner. It was the only other place it could be. Arhem had put my bag in there with me after we'd arrived at Ren.

Shuffling slowly over to Merenwen's door, I knocked shyly twice, hoping to any god that was out there that she hadn't fallen asleep yet. As luck would have it, Merenwen hardly ever slept anymore either, and, a moment later, the door creaked open; her thin figure morphing out of the gloom behind her.

"Yes?" she said quietly, and I noticed a small flicker of annoyance in her big doe eyes.

"Um," I stammered, "I didn't mean to bother you, it's just that I'm afraid I might have left a ring of mine in your room from the first night I was here." She stared at me without a word and finally moved aside one step, allowing me to walk in.

Tentatively, I stepped into the room, surprised to find a single candle burning. Apparently, she didn't just sit in her room motionless every night staring at her walls in darkness. Next to it, I could see another drawing in progress, but before I could examine it Merenwen picked up the candle and handed it to me to look for the ring.

"Thank you," I murmured and turned to the bed where I'd first woken up in Ren. The bag had been directly next to it, so I bent down, holding the candle aloft as I did so, searching for the glint of silver in the dark. My heart plummeted as I saw that there was nothing, simply a bare floor with a few mouse droppings and a chewed strip of paper under the mattress. Nothing else.

Fighting back tears, I rose and tried to give Merenwen a grateful smile. "Well, I guess it's not here. Thank you, anyway."

I handed her the candle and made to leave, but Merenwen's soft, bitter voice made me halt mid-step. "Is it the loss of the ring that causes you to weep?" she asked me.

I looked at her in surprise. The flame of the candle did a quick haphazard dance then balanced itself again. The light played off her features and made her already hollow cheeks even deeper and paler. Her haunted eyes terrified me with their sudden, piercing intensity. For the last two weeks, the only real emotion I'd been able to see in Merenwen's eyes was sorrow; a mourning so deep and so awful that not even tears could do it justice. But now, I found I was reminded of Legolas' eyes back in Emyn Muil when his sickness had made him delirious and so terrible to behold. There ailments suddenly seemed one in the same.

"What?" I blurted out stupidly, unable to fully comprehend at first the question from the apparition floating so eerily in front of me.

"The ring," she breathed, which immediately drew me back to the Lord of the Rings books when that word had been the essence of evil; only there was absolutely no connection between these two rings. "Why does its loss upset you so?

The words almost seemed to pain her, and I realized that this was probably the first time I'd ever heard her speak full sentences. "Oh...um, no, it's just that...well, it's the only piece of my home that I have left."

Her dark eyes seemed to flicker and suddenly clear of the abrupt emotion they'd held and she turned slowly, lifting her candle to the walls of her room. I followed the trail of light and almost gasped when I saw that her entire room was now covered in pictures of her dead beloved. Where before there had only been one wall with pictures of miscellaneous things, now the boards were tacked over with one image alone. Now I knew what she'd been doing in here day after day.

"I am afraid that I will forget his face," she said, hand shaking as she did so. The vibrations caused the flame to give an eerie flicker effect to the dozens of Urol portraits. "Just imagine...the loss of your ring--that piece of your homeland...and my loss." She turned to me, and looking upon her I had to wonder if in fact she _was_ truly a ghost. "Urol was my home. Without him I will never be able to laugh, or feel joy, or hatred, or fear... I tell you this because I can see the pity in your eyes every time you look at me. But I want you to know that there is no use in it. I am as dead as a living being can be. And my life no longer holds anything for me. No happiness, no sorrow, no joy, and no disappointment. Do not pity me, for I have loved and lost. Nothing more." She lowered the candle, obscuring Urol's face in the darkness, for which I was glad. "I do not want your pity."

I struggled to un-stick my tongue from the roof of my mouth, "What _do _you want, Merenwen?"

Her pale lips thinned and she spoke plainly, "To die. I will not commit the act myself, but I do wish it."

It felt evil to ask her, but I had to know. "Why?"

She looked at the walls covered in the portraits of her dead lover wistfully and her answer was not to me but to him. "Because...he would want me to live. He was wonderful like that. I know that if he could speak with me again he would tell me to live. He always thought I had more to offer this world than I actually had."

"Perhaps he was right," I ventured and she gave me a surprised glance.

"Not now," she said, turning away from Urol, "I can do nothing well or good now that I do not have him. He brought out everything good within me."

I could not allow myself to believe that. People were not created in such a way that only one person could make them good or useful. But I didn't want to tell her that. Somehow I didn't think Merenwen would want to hear that. So, I tried a different approach. "But couldn't you at least try...for your family? I mean, they were there before Urol even, right?"

Merenwen looked mildly remorseful as she moved uneasily from her stance near the bed to sit down at her desk. "I am hurting only myself. In time they will stop hoping for my recovery...in time she will stop expecting an answer when she speaks to me."

Hearing these selfish, naive words, I suddenly could no longer muster the pity for Merenwen that I'd held these past few weeks. It wasn't anger that me as I looked at her but something very close to it. I supposed that what she was trying to tell me was that her family didn't need her; that she wasn't important. And as far as I knew it, that was complete and utter crock. I could have told her that, yes, a great wrong had been done to her. But she was no longer mourning her father's death or her lover's death, but rather herself and all the sadness she held. Her life had, in essence, become one big pity party. She had unconsciously decided that she no longer cared how upset she made her family with her "mourning" and then made up the excuse that eventually they would forget her.

But Arhem, Lianen, and Eorl deserved more than that.

Chuckling slightly to myself at her words, I shook my head. Merenwen frowned at me, consternation causing her to eye me oddly over the frail light of the candle. "Why do you laugh?"

I headed to the door, set my hand to the knob and looked back at her with what had turned into a look of pitying and patronizing acknowledgment. "If that is truly what you think then you're in for a rather rude awakening." I paused and opened the door, "Thanks for letting me look. Good night."

The door thudded to a close behind me, and I headed out the front door, knowing that sleep would never be able to find me this night. I walked through the garden slowly and stopped at its edge to sit down. Sighing, I leaned back against one of the post marking the entrance to the garden and looked up at the sky studded with stars with the sudden sense that nothing was under my control in this world. I didn't feel like any single thing I did here made any real impact. Merenwen was probably going to become even more annoyed with my existence than she already was and dismiss my words rather than consider them and, eventually, when I departed from this family and found my own niche in Middle Earth, everyone was destined to forget me. I couldn't have possibly explained it to anyone but Legolas, but for some unknown reason I had the sneaking suspicion that the Aratar had made it so that I would never fully or totally belong here; not after I promised to ignore their rules of the game.

It was just a theory, but I almost felt like they were punishing me now after my little spat with Salmar. It was possible that they didn't trust me anymore; didn't want it to be easy for me to approach this world on my own--this new habitat--in a way that displeased them. And that was anyway that didn't lead directly back to Legolas. It was infuriating in more ways than one. And it occurred to me that, not only were they making my social fingerprint on this world non-lasting, but they were also toying with my emotional state as well. The disappearance of my ring suddenly seemed strangely convenient.

I laughed as I made a mental comparison between myself and all those ancient cultures of Earth that were always creating new gods to blame for every bad or unfortunate thing that happened to them.

"Oh, I suppose the God of Ring Theft made off with another piece of your jewelry, did he, Iorwen?" I mocked myself, then nearly jumped out of my skin when a voice replied. "Is there any particular reason why you are outside, late at night, speaking to yourself?"

I spun to look as Arhem ambled out, a smug look on his face, making me suddenly realize that I was in little more than a shift. Arhem seemed hardly to notice however as he sat down next to me and said, "You are very edgy tonight. I am sorry if I scared you."

"No, no," I assured him, "I was just thinking."

"For everyone to hear..." Arhem replied, finishing my sentence.

I laughed shortly to myself and leaned back against the post, thinking that if Arhem knew everything that went on inside my head, he wouldn't be smiling. "Sort of," I acknowledged.

Arhem sidled over and began to draw inconspicuously in the soil, "I hear you lost something?"

I winced and tried to shrug nonchalantly, "I'll get over it."

Arhem raised his eyebrows, and I realized a moment too late that I'd just used another phrase that revealed my otherworldliness. "I'll be fine," I quickly corrected.

Arhem smiled and took my hand. For a moment I was so surprised that it didn't even register that he'd dropped something in my palm as he pulled his away.

Blinking, I managed to tear my gaze away from his face and look down into my now outstretched palm. My cheap, little ring glimmered back at me in the gloom as though greeting me, telling me it knew it was back where it was supposed to be.

"Arhem," I gasped, "Where--"

"Merenwen mentioned to me that you'd come looking for it. I took it out of your bag when I was transferring your things. It looked so tiny and precious that I thought it best to put it somewhere safe so it would no be lost. Then I just forgot about it. Forgive me. I did not mean to upset you."

I looked back down at the little piece of jewelry, hardly believing it was there after I'd already assumed I'd lost it forever. "It's fine," I replied shakily. I sniffed loudly and waved him off when he made to apologize again. "Thank you. I'm just glad to have it back."

Arhem looked at me guiltily as I tried to hold back my tears. "I did not realize it was so important to you." He said quietly.

I kind of laughed and put the little ring on my finger. "Neither did I."

"Are you all right now, Iorwen?" Arhem ventured and I nodded to him in reassurance. "I think I'll be okay."

_You liar,_ I thought to myself , _You'll never be okay so long as you have to keep keeping up this disgusting charade of yours. Just tell him!_

Gripping the ring with the two fingers of my other hand, I twisted it madly, thinking about how I'd had everything taken from me. The Valar were trying to force their own life on me and I wasn't going to have it. It was NOT their choice; it was mine. I didn't choose Legolas...but, then, who _did _I choose?

"I choose..." lifting my head up from where I was staring at the ring to look at Arhem who had been staring all the while at my face, attempting to discern my mood. I stared directly at him, not daring to look away, lest I lose my nerve.

"What?" Arhem asked, "You choose what? What are you talking about?"

"I think..." I gulped and turned to face him, "I think I choose..."

I couldn't get out the rest, but Arhem seemed to have figured out what I was trying to say because a moment later his lips were against mine and we were flat against the ground next to the tomato plants. His legs planted themselves around mine and he gasped against my lips, "Iorwen, I thought you would never think on me."

I looked past his head to the sky above as Arhem began to plant kisses along my neck feverishly. His face suddenly reappeared and he kissed me deeply again, so deeply that for a moment I lost my thoughts completely and the moment they reappeared, all I could see was Legolas' face in my mind.

"Iorwen..."Arhem breathed against my skin, and I shuddered with the sudden wrongness of it.

"Wait, wait..." I scooted out from under Arhem and he sat back in shock, looking hurt.

"What is it?" he asked, looking so pitiful I almost wanted to change my mind, but I couldn't.

"I'm sorry, Arhem, but...this isn't right. I can't..." I trailed off, but his face had already resolved to an answer.

"It is the elf, yes?"

I wanted to shake my head no, but I couldn't even move. My silence was answer enough.

He sighed. "It is all right. I understand. You will need more time." He stood up to leave, "But understand, he is gone and I would have you if you would allow me. Please, remember."

He walked away sadly back to the house, and I fell back against the post, rubbing my temples in a pathetic form of consolation.

"Fuck," I cursed to myself. Not only had they made it impossible to enjoy life here, but now I was never going to be able to consider another man without them dropping Legolas' face into my mental bank.

Mental despair descended like a black-winged bird on my thoughts, sending me tumbling through every emotion that could have followed the encounter with Arhem-- disappointment, confusion, sadness--and dropped me straight into the pit of emotional desperation. I knew immediately that outside of the Aratar's plan, I could never live the way I wished. But there had to be something… There had to be something out there that I could do that they wouldn't expect--that they couldn't control…

I looked back to the house, into the window that had previously glowed with candle light. The answer was suddenly so plain that I wondered to myself why I had never thought of it before. _And just why not, Iorwen?_ the eager little voice whispered. _They couldn't possibly expect that._

Standing up, I hardly even shivered as a cold breeze blew my thin shift against my body. I knew now what had to be done. Giving the house one last sad glance, I turned away and walked out of the garden, my feet making only the faintest of padding noises as I left the village of Ren and all conventional thought behind.

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: Have no fear, dear readers! I have returned! After months of all kinds of hullabaloo, things finally calmed down enough for me to get this typed up, and--luckily for you guys--I've nearly finished the next chapter, so the next update will not be so long coming. Oh, and please forgive any grammar and spelling errors, I kind of hastily typed this and read through it, so it's probably riddled with them. Anyway, thanks for reading, and please go forth and review!

-MusicalCharlatan


	36. Love That Binds Like Wire

_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter Thirty-Six--Love That Binds Like Wire

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I would wish the love that binds the heart like wire

And steels strength against what pities life does hold

As a stone keep might shield an army from fire

As thus would my inner torture be so sold

From lustful wishes and these political gains.

I sell myself into slavery as a mother might sell

Her only daughter into an escape from death's pains,

So shall I walk this bridge into beauteous hell

Where my red lord waits to bind my heart

With cruel, lovely touches he saves yet slays my soul;

A duplicitous devil playing my true love's part.

Yet watch I as his sweet nothings take their toll

And spin their way about my thoughts and hopes

As a spider might weave a glittering, treacherous web

That sparkles like a light for he who gropes;

To ensnare the thoughtless fly whose mind may ebb.

_Oh, beautiful_! My licentious heart does cry,

_There dwells a self-torture in which I might revel!_

And so I wandered under black and starless sky

To tangle myself in the limbs of my sweet devil

And I confess, it was not against my liking

That I took him there under limp willow boughs

To endure love there, its icy spines striking

Any tender nerve that its promise might arouse.

Would you wound, O, passionate red briar rose?

Have you a thorn to prick and pierce my desires

With your beauty only surpassed by your clever prose

And your emerald stem all swathed in two-tone wires.

Me thinks you would, O, passionate red briar rose.

You are not made whole unless I am made broken;

A truth you considered somehow unworthy to disclose

When you cajoled me with your pledge and a token.

Yet, still, in my mind's eye, there waits for me a man

With golden hair and far-seeing eyes like the hawk's,

And arms and legs of marble to catch me had I ran,

To assure my doom with fingers that twirled my locks.

Love, man's love, cruel and beautiful, had you a heart--

Exultant, I might strike it with mine own icy stake

And watch in joy as blood gushed from that hewn part,

Then wrap in gauze that heart which you did break

To turn away and never free that flighty pulsing rock;

Only hide it in darkness where hope might never reach

Of rumors on a young girl's change for wedlock,

So, slow and painful, that lesson would I teach.

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_Iorwen POV_

"_Iorwen, do you remember what I told you?"_

I closed my eyes against the oncoming wind and burrowed deeper into memory.

_She paused, considering the question carefully. "That…life is not worth living if you don't have any friends or family?"_

_He nodded gravely, his green eyes never losing contact with her stormy gray ones as he did so. "And why is that, Iorwen?" _

I flexed my hand against my side, clenching the foreign fabric of my outfit with trembling fingers that looked white in the pale luminosity of the moon.

"_Because no one can live all on there own, daddy." She replied, reciting the words with a distance that was born completely of the conviction that the words couldn't and never would apply to herself._

Two tears came running down my face, one weaving a path that stopped at the corner of my mouth; the other fell and landed on my bare feet. All I was wearing at this point was the cream colored shift I had left Arhem's house in that was made of some strange light fabric that crumpled under my fingers like wet paper. My toes clenched the edge of the cliff bravely as though they were eager to leap the distance to certain quick death. I opened my eyes tentatively to look at where the tear had dropped onto my foot and noticed casually that the my toenails were still painted with chipped glittery brown polish. It was just another remnant of a life that now seemed so long ago. Had it now been three months since my transfer to this world? Or was it more? Less, perhaps? It wasn't important. The only important thing was that I didn't belong here. I never would.

A cascade of dirt tumbled off the cliff edge where my toes had loosened it. I watched the small brown cloud float down till it disappeared far below in the tumultuous waters where the Anduin met the Limlight in a terrible exchange of battling currents. The full extent of what I was about to do suddenly hit me, and I knew that what I wanted at that moment more than anything was to see a friendly face; a piece of my past, anyone who could convince me that this wasn't the answer. But I couldn't think of any other answer. This was the only way I could think of to go back home. And if I didn't…then, at least I'd be away from here. Here where the very air I breathed had a foreign taste, the landmarks were unfamiliar, ideas surreal, and people remote and mythical. I suddenly remembered the words I'd spoken to Legolas when I'd first arrived here.

"_Iorwen." I blinked and turned to look at the curious elf. "Will you be alright?"_

_Such a simple question and yet I felt like I couldn't even find the words to answer it. Would I be alright?_

_I bit my lip and nodded dumbly. "Yeah…I'll be fine."_

I was such a fool; a fool to believe that I could ever belong here, especially when I knew I'd have to abandon the one person who could have made me happy here.

I knew as soon as he told me in Emyn Muil that I had ruined everything that I couldn't stay with him; not when I attracted trouble like flies to a picnic. I would run away--the bravest and most cowardly thing I could do and attempt to restart somewhere else. I was obviously out of my mind. People don't just go world-hopping and then expect to acclimate that easily. What was it that Legolas had said when he'd been in my world. That he felt like a seed landed on rocks….

_What a perfect way to describe it_, I thought bitterly.

Another tear sneaked out from my eyelid, and I wanted to release all of them. I wanted to sit down and weep for ages, until every single tear in my body could escape. Perhaps then I would feel better. But I knew that that was useless. The only thing that could possibly end this would be to just take one step forward. Only one step. It amazed me how thin the line was that separated us from death. If I just leaned forward a little more…all of this could end.

I yearned for that freedom.

But another part entirely called out for survival, for life, for a different kind of freedom. It forced my thoughts back to the one person that I knew I couldn't return to. _He could fix this, too, you know_, a part of me screamed, _It doesn't have to be this cruel of an end. Just go back. Find him…before you do something that you'll regret for eternity, or never even get a chance to regret period._

_Eternity…_ I mulled the word over in my head bitterly, thinking of how it was something as simple as that word that had caused me to flee the one being I'd ever considered loving. And, yes, I did say love. I'd avoided thinking it for so long, but what else could you call the ache that tugged on my being every moment of every day as I walked further and further away from his warming presence? Why else would I feel so wretched when I left Lorien, dragging my wounded heart behind me as I did?

_Oh, God. You're so hopeless, Iorwen_! I cried out mentally. _Leave it to you to fall in love with an immortal!_

Letting out a strangled sob, I wrapped my arms around my waist in an effort to comfort my wobbling frame against the cold night air.

I could go back now, forget this cliff, forget this night, forget any of this ever happened. But then what would I do? I'd grow old in this strange world all alone, fighting against the advances of some disillusioned gods, or go running back to Legolas--who I knew considered me the cause for all of his misfortune--and whither away next to an immortal who would never look like he was over thirty years old.

The answer was clear.

Blinking away my salty tears, I sighed and looked at the starry night above and was inwardly pleased that I'd managed to pick such a beautiful night to die. "I bet the Valar never saw this coming," I muttered dryly.

"What do you think you are doing?"

The voice was so soft yet so urgent that it nearly caused me to tumble off the cliff purely out of shock. Blinking twice rapidly, I turned on the spot and stared wide-eyed at the blonde-haired apparition about 30 feet away from me. He looked sickly as though he'd never quite recovered from his time in a coma in Emyn Muil. His clothes--given to him by the Lorien elves just as mine had--looked a little bit too big on his frame like as though he'd suddenly lost a lot of weight. I could see shadows under his eyes, but those eyes, I noticed, looked as vital and alive as they had when we'd first arrived in Middle Earth. The only difference was that now they were unblinking and determined as they bore into my own, apparently daring me to reply with an answer that displeased him.

"What are you doing here?" I said, not liking the way my legs trembled and my body warmed at the sight of him. "I told Valandil I did not want you following me."

Legolas didn't move. He didn't even blink. "You could not seriously have considered that I would simply allow you to leave as you did?"

My throat tried to close up on me and a very new and sudden feeling began to overcome me as I beheld him and even more so when he spoke. His words were having some kind of strange effect on me that I couldn't have explained if I'd tried. All I knew was that now more than ever all I wanted to do was launch myself toward him and never go a different direction for the rest of my life if he wasn't in that direction as well. I grappled desperately for a reasonable sentence to use that would help convince me that this was where I needed to be.

"But…you didn't want anything to do with me?"

Legolas was starting to scare me with how little he was blinking. "Why not let _me_ be the judge of that, Iorwen?" Legolas took one step, his eyes never leaving my face as I fought to bring my mind back to the clear resolution that I'd developed just moments earlier.

"But you said--you told me I had ruined everything, and you were right. I'm not supposed to be here, and you should have never come to Earth. But, if I can just stay away from you then the Valar won't have anyone to play matchmaker with anymore."

At these words, Legolas' eyes seemed to dim a little and he looked guilty underneath the thick layer of determination. "I know that in my fevered state I voiced aloud some of the inner conflicts I held, and I beg your forgiveness for ever saying them. I want you to know, Iorwen," I groaned at the sound of my name, "I did not mean a word of it."

I shook my head violently and tried to ignore the pressure of more tears behind my eyes. "No, Legolas. You're not making this easier for me. You just don't understand how important this is. I am not supposed to be here."

He took another step forward and I noticed with some amount of trepidation that he was only about twelve feet away from me now. How had he gotten so close?

"You are the one who does not understand, Iorwen," I shook my head in denial, "I was so confused, so bitter at the thought that this world had been ruined for me, but now I know that you are the only thing that could make it right."

My heart skipped a beat and I realized that my hand was about to rip the fabric of my shift I was clenching it so tightly. "No. Stop, Legol--"

"I could not even fathom why on earth the Valar would drag us on this insane journey. But now I care not, because I fully believe…" he took another long step towards me, "that they made no mistake by bringing us together."

His eyes convinced me that he meant it completely; and inside me a dam broke. Fear spilled through me with monstrous force, and I knew immediately what I had to do. _End it now_! someone somewhere screamed, and I did just that.

Letting out another sob, I turned and launched myself over the cliff face. A familiar feeling of weightlessness overtook my senses and my stomach seemed to soar upwards for a moment--the same kind of lurching sickness that I remembered from riding roller coasters back home--while, for a fraction of a second, I heard Legolas screaming. Then, with all the intensity of being hit by a wall of sound, my vision went black and the world became all quiet and cold.

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:cackles God, I'm good. Review and tell me your ideas!

-MusicalCharlatan


	37. A Place to Rest Her Head

_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter Thirty-Seven--A Place to Rest Her Head

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Valinor had ever been a land of mythical beauty; something beyond and yet far less than what words suggested. Its climate was mild and cool and it was not uncommon to see plant life there that did not seem to belong to the moderate weather. Where a great oak might stand, nearby a palm tree and then a weeping willow might also sway lazily in the breeze. Daisies and dahlias, cacti and petunias, Hawthorne and myrtle all covered the strange ethereal beauty of the Vala's lands.

Salmar himself particularly enjoyed the vast assortment of animals that roamed Valinor. One might think it strange in Middle Earth to watch a deer and a wolf sniff each other amiably, but in the Undying Lands the uncommon was common and the normal otherworldly. It was as he was busy watching an ant scuttle about the feet of a crouching crab that the demi-god felt rather than heard the approach of one of his masters.

"Is it purely out of malevolent amusement that you torment me with questions, my lady, or am I to believe that you actually have not been examining and guiding my every step in Middle Earth?"

Turning away from the sea, Salmar watched as the lady Elbereth advanced towards him along Valinor's white shores.

"I choose to see what I wish to see, just as I choose to hear what I wish to hear. Tell me, how fares our elf prince and his heart's chosen? Have we another Beren and Luthien?"

Salmar grinned ruefully, "No romance so easy coming as that, I'm afraid. The human, Iorwen, lacks much of the grace that had the fair Luthien. She is simply too stubborn. She would refuse a crown of diamonds if it were not first befitted with thorns to pierce her brow. As it is, the bond between the two is not yet such that separation could harm them. I have chosen to allow the chase to continue as it would have of its own accord. No more shall I interfere and I have returned to plead that the Aratar do the same."

Elbereth glistened from her hair to her white unfettered feet in the afternoon sun, "Peace, Salmar," her deep, ethereal voice cooed to him, "It shall be done unto them as you have said. What transpires will be only a result of this unpredictable world as we have created it. In this alone shall our hand be involved. I have seen the girl's travels even now as she flees from her fear. The prince shall live--not well--but he shall live. And the same for our stubborn human. It is not often that we interfere with the lives of those we have created, and I have already grown weary of it. If next the elf prince and the girl meet, it will be of their own making."

Bowing his head in thanks, Salmar looked then to the sea, imagining across its watery plains the restless land that lay beyond. "What a tumultuous place, our Middle Earth," he mused out loud, "I often wonder how it is that the lives of those who inhabit it are managed…"

Elbereth's sad voice echoed rather than gave a reply, "Not easily, I assure you. Ever has it been since our brother Melkor betrayed us. Our trial has since become their own, and that which ought never been has been transgressed by the graces of Illuvatar."

It was quiet a moment as they both imagined the turmoil that stirred in the east. Finally, after what may have been an eternity to mortals but only a few moments to the Vala, Salmar turned back to the lady, a question present in his eyes. "What was the manner in which the prince and mortal's life were decided?"

Elbereth gave an airy sigh that stirred the tops of the nearby trees. "T'was a gift for he and his companions eight. The Great War now ended, we chose to reward those heroes who endured so much for the cause of good. Unfortunately, in my choosing not to look into the future of each situation, I may have allowed a misjudgment to occur. I now wonder whether we have blessed our prince or cursed him."

Salmar nodded in the stony silence that ensued. "I only ask out of car for the two. I feel that I have doomed them with my interference. But it is clear to me that a potential for greatness lies in them both, doubly so should they come together. I now wish I could somehow aid their plight, even though I fear I have already done too much."

The goddess looked at him very seriously, considering his words. "You have shown favor to these and now wish to reverse a wrong? Fear not, friend Salmar, though you fear a break between them, their love--should it indeed come to pass--shall occur whether or not you have interfered. It is our way for this to happen. I have no doubt that whatever they choose shall eventually come to good. There is a strength in all of our creations, and it is often that the only ones who do not realize it are them."

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I watch how the moon sits in the sky  
On a dark night shining with the light from the sun  
The sun doesn't give light to the moon  
Assuming the moon's going to owe it one  
It makes me think of how you act to me  
You do favors and then rapidly  
You just turn around and start asking me about  
Things you want back from me

I'm sick of the tension, sick of the hunger  
Sick of you acting like I owe you this  
Find another place to feed your greed  
While I find a place to rest

I want to be in another place  
I hate when you say you don't understand  
(You'll see it's not meant to be)  
I want to be in the energy, not with the enemy  
A place for my head  
Maybe someday I'll be just like you, and  
Step on people like you do and  
Run away the people I thought I knew  
I remember back then who you were  
You used to be calm, used to be strong  
Used to be generous, but you should've known  
That you'd wear out your welcome  
Now you see how quiet it is, all alone 1

_Iorwen POV_

It was around mid-morning when I woke, aware only of a very uncomfortable prodding in the small of my back. I groaned and reached under my back, withdrawing a very large pointed stick. Throwing it away angrily, I wearily sat up, instantly becoming even more aware of the fact that I was soaked through. Shivering in the cold morning air, I wrapped my arms around my bare shoulders then changed my mind to try and squeeze some of the water out of my shift.

Sniffing loudly, I wiped some of the dirt and grime off of my face and looked around, attempting to ascertain exactly where the hell I was. What happened? Why was I outside? Where was Arhem?

Legolas' face immediately entered my mind and I moaned in the realization that my idiot plan--my last resort--hadn't worked, and now I was lost and on my own in the vast wilderness of middle earth. I looked in front of me and was not surprised to see the Anduin rushing past near my feet. The swift current had no doubt pushed me miles further downstream, but the Valar had saved me it seemed. Overwhelming disappointment that the Valar hadn't sent me home left a sickly feel in the back of my throat. A veritable torrent of oppressing emotions assaulted me: amazement over what I'd done, bitterness that I wasn't home after the extreme step I'd just taken, overall anger at the Valar, and a trembling mournfulness that reminded me of bruised heart and the ellon I'd just rejected.

On the edge of tears, I began blabbering to myself. "Who, me? Iorwen? Oh, no. I don't just turn down guys. I turn down guys and _then _I jump off of a cliff to prove my point."

Cursing, I stood up and turned on the spot, thinking that the first thing I needed to do was get a fire going. If I didn't warm up soon I was going to die a slow cold-induced death _not _of my own choosing. It took me a good fifteen minutes, but I finally managed to start a small fire using some old dry driftwood. Feeding the fire constantly, I managed to get it hot enough to take the chill out of my bones. Shedding the already beat-to-hell, see-through shift, I held it next to the fire, inwardly wondering to myself when it happened that I no longer held any trepidation about stripping in the woods.

"That was a very stupid thing to do, girl."

I threw my shift back over my body so quickly I'd be surprised if he managed to see anything. Salmar stared at me amusedly, a large wool blanket suddenly materializing out of nowhere on my shoulders. It took me a moment to figure out that he was talking about my jumping off the cliff, and not the fact that I'd undressed in unfamiliar woods. I pulled the blanket close, reveling in the warmth while at the same time trying to appear peeved. Even as exhausted as I was, the haughty, condescending tone of the demi-god was enough to make my temper flare. "What do you know about it?" I bit back tersely.

He shook his head sadly at me. "You are quite possibly the most stubborn woman I have ever known. If you continue this the Aratar are liable to just destroy you and be done with it."

"Finally! They get it! That's all I've been trying to achieve this entire time. If I'd known all I had to do was annoy the hell out of them, then I would have jumped off a cliff ages ago," I chuckled rebelliously to myself. Even though I hadn't died, I had successfully convinced Legolas I had. Now it was just a matter of finding a new place to rest my head.

After a moment, I noticed that Salmar was looking down on me sadly, pity spread so plainly on his face that it made me want to slap him. "Why didn't they send me back, Salmar?" I asked after a moment, clawing at the blanket to pull it closer to my body.

Salmar spoke up quietly, his answer prepared as though he had fully expected this to be the first question. "You wished to be left alone, so they began with that."

It was quiet again, and I couldn't help but wonder why he had come to see me at all. "So, have you shown up purely out of your sadistic desire to watch me suffer, or is there another reason? What more do they want of me that you haven't yet admitted to?"

The bitterness in my voice seemed to sadden him even further, and it made me wonder again what exactly it was he was hiding that made him feel so guilty. Were gods even supposed to feel guilt?

"It is not what you think, Iorwen. I've come to apologize."

Blinking, I turned to look at him, hardly believing my ears. Now, apologizing, that was one thing I _knew_ celestial beings were not accustomed to. "What? Why? What for?" I spilled out; hardly able to think of a question sufficient enough for the confusion I was feeling. Salmar had never once before looked sorry for any of the games he'd put me through, so why the sudden repentance?

He continued slowly, "In truth, you were never actually supposed to come to Middle Earth."

"I knew it," I voiced aloud, feeling mildly proud with the realization that I had been right. But there was something else too…disappointment?

"The entire thing was supposed to concern the elf prince and him alone, but you--and consequently Marian--got caught in the crossfire."

"Wha-wait….what do you mean? Then--how did I end up here at all? It doesn't make sense."

Sighing, Salmar sat down next to me. "To start from the beginning…the prince--no, I must go further. You understand all the circumstances surrounding the War of the Ring, do you not? How the nine walkers of Imladris set out with their ring bearer, Frodo, and together sought to destroy the One Ring? You know, of course, that after everything that happened to this brave fellowship, a normal life thereafter for any of them would have been difficult to achieve?"

I nodded my head, utterly incapable of figuring out where he was headed with this little monologue.

"Yes, well, the gods looked upon these brave few and decided amongst themselves that they should all bestow gifts upon them. Each would be given their deepest inner desire, and when the nine had realized what their gifts were, the Aratar would reveal themselves to the receivers and fully explain why the gifts had been given to them."

"What was Legolas'?" I blurt out, before he could even continue.

"I was going to say that the elf prince's wish was so fervent and so deep that he'd barely been home in Eryn Lasgalen a fortnight when he revealed to the Valar what it was he wanted right then and at that exact moment. He was about to attain some much needed rest in his own bed when the elf prince decided that what he needed more than anything was time away, in a place so different and unlike Middle Earth that he could perhaps forget about the trauma he now associated with the Ring. Specifically, he had been thinking about the Undying Lands."

"Then, why in the hell didn't you send him there?" I practically screeched.

"Because he didn't actually want to go to Valinor. He had been dreading the thought of it ever since the Lady Galadriel sent word to him and his companion in Fangorn through Gandalf the White. So, the Aratar chose the next best place…the future."

Sitting up straight, looked very closely at Salmar, trying to decide whether or not he was joking with me. "The future?" I repeated incredulously, "Surely, you're kidding? Middle Earth and…my earth are absolutely nothing alike, not geographically or anything. If Middle Earth had truly once existed there…there would have been artifacts and-and ruins; _something_ left over!"

"There are," Salmar replied patiently, "Most of the ruins were destroyed by mass continental migration that the Valar influenced somewhat to hide their presence, but the stories of elves and monsters…those have remained. Granted, they've morphed a bit over the years, but their general essence still remains."

My mind was still reeling, unwilling to accept the fact that the world I had once inhabited for so many years, thinking that myths were just that: myths, had actually been created on top of middle earth. "This is impossible. Where in the hell were the elves? They're immortal, right? How come I never spotted any conspicuously-pointed ears while I was living there?"

"Did you ever truly look?"

"I think I would have noticed someone with pointed ears."

"Well, it's possible you never did. They are not in great numbers, and they find solace in their anonymity. It suits their purposes to remain invisible from men, and if there is anybody in the world who wishes to hide their presence, elves certainly are the most capable."

I had to acknowledge the fact that he was right. Most people had been so busy with themselves back home that they'd hardly noticed anything. And elves…well, I didn't have a lot of first hand experience, but I knew that they wouldn't find it hard to blend in with future humans if they had to. They were clever, cunning, and undeniably talented at all things stealthy. Legolas had always been showing up at the most unexpected moments, right at my elbow and unbelievably quiet.

"Well…what about the Lord of the Rings books? Who told Tolkien the truth?"

Salmar shrugged. "I can only speculate. Undoubtedly, it was just some elf who no longer saw any point in keeping the past a secret. I suppose they must have known that the world would only accept it as a story, so there seemed to be no point in worrying."

Biting my lip, I tried to contemplate this new existence where my world and middle earth existed as one. Hardly able to even consider it, I shook my head and turned back to Salmar, suddenly realizing that he hadn't yet answered my question. "Okay, but none of this explains why I'm here. Why did they send me back with Legolas?"

Salmar gave me a very straightforward look, "Because he brought you with him."

"But," I gaped, "He wasn't even awake when I went into the living room that night!"

Salmar grinned, "Yes, he was."

He'd been awake? Legolas had been awake when I'd walked in there and caressed his face like some stupid love-sick middle school girl?! My cheeks flared with embarrassment at the thought. "Shit."

The deity laughed openly at me. "When you went into the living room that night he ended up drawing you into his wish as well. He knew he wanted to return home, but he didn't feel like leaving you behind. He wasn't even fully aware of it himself though."

"But…in Emyn Muil…he'd blamed me for-for everything…and…"

"Again," Salmar interjected, looking a good bit more solemn now, "He didn't even know he'd brought you with him in the first place. And, when everything went from good to horrible, his mind did like everybody else's on this planet and searched for someone to blame. But, as you now know, he's sorry for what he did."

"I know, don't rub it in," I sighed, closing my eyes and rubbing my eyelids slowly. Without opening them, I continued inquiring, "Okay, so that explains how I got here, but why the chase when I arrived? Why did the Valar feel the need to stick their noses into my business every waking moment since I showed up? I thought I was an afterthought."

"Well…" my eyes flew open to examine Salmar as he seemed to become increasingly more uncomfortable. "That was my fault."

"Oh, really?" I growled and he began to look even more pitiful.

"The Valar were really far more concerned with the prince, but they also knew that he was not going to appreciate you running away. So…they sent me. I set up the game. I knew the chase that was going to ensue, so I…elaborated on it…a bit. Love never does come easily after all."

"'Elaborated?' What do you mean 'elaborated'?" I was practically chewing nails at this point, and Salmar looked not entirely unlike a little boy that was confessing he'd busted a window to his scary grandmother and wanted to escape.

"I set a false trail when the prince set off to look for you. That's why it took him so long to reach you in Ren."

"What else?" I groaned.

"Nothing of serious note."

I picked up my shift where it was completely dry next to the fire and managed to shimmy back into it under the cloak before handing it back to Salmar. "So, if you were messing around with us all the time, why didn't you help us escape from Emyn Muil?"

"I did."

I glanced at him in surprise.

"You think the Imladris elves would have returned to that place without some incentive? You got yourself and the prince out, but you would not have gotten far without help from the outside."

I knew he was right, but, like they always said back home, that didn't mean I had to like it. "What about the wargs that attacked me and Beriadan? I suppose you had all that under control as well?"

"Of course," he answered snottily, "I had to have someone save you from your own ignorance, and the only way to do that was to send those wargs at you so that those human hunters would follow them and find your trail. I do not know how you would have survived otherwise."

I sulked further against the tree I was leaning on. "My horse is probably dead because of you."

Salmar shook his head. "No, I made sure he found his way back to Legolas. He was well taken care of."

I laughed dryly at the thought of Legolas coming upon my rider less horse in the woods. "Well, no wonder he was so willing to pledge his undying love to me. He found Beriadan and probably thought I'd been eaten by a warg. Smooth move, Salmar." I paused, trying to decide what all this now meant for my existence. "So…now what?"

The demi-god again laughed at my own expense. "You begged and pleaded for you independence, but yet you never actually had a plan for your own survival."

"Well, obviously not," I replied bitingly, "You just saw my last resort. And besides, you're missing the point. It was the principle of the matter that was more important to me than anything. I don't want people trying to run my life, regardless of whether or not they're better at it than I am."

Salmar shook his head at me sadly, "Well, I advise you not to do anything rash again. Next time I shall not be able to intervene on your behalf. From now on, you're on your own, as they say in your time."

"Peachy," I griped, "Ya'll finally back off once I'm in an even worse position than before. I've got no horse, no food, no extra clothes, _and _no fucking idea where I am!"

He sighed in exasperation, "Fine, but this is definitely the last time."

"And the first you'll have actually "helped" me in a manner I wanted," I grumbled.

"Cease complaining and look behind you."

Turning around to look past the tree, I was almost unsurprised to see a buckskin horse with provision on his back and--as some kind of joke by Salmar--a traditional Western saddle with bridle, bit, and even leather saddle bags, cinched around the horse's belly.

"Is there anything else you require? A ten-gallon hat, perhaps?"

"Ha-ha-ha," I fake laughed, enthralled despite myself.

"I also placed a map and compass in those bags should you need them, and you will."

"Thank you, Salmar. I'll bother you no more…" I stared at the horse for a moment then sneaked in, "Unless, of course you wouldn't mind poofing up a black 69' Camaro SS with a 350 automatic and a portable DVD player…"

"Farewell, Iorwen," Salmar chuckled and was gone.

I sighed in resignation and stood up. "All right," I acquiesced to myself and walked over to the buckskin.

Rubbing the horse's nose, I stood looking at the chance I'd been given and thinking about the chance that was undoubtedly still looking for me on the river banks. "Time to go…" I gazed at the horse, searching for a good name. Glancing down under the animal briefly, I decided on a male's name. "Stevie Ray. Let's go find home…wherever the hell that is."

Retrieving some of the practical clothing from my saddle bags, I changed into more suitable clothing, stuffed the shift into the bags, and then swung into the comfortable familiarity of the saddle. Taking a moment to get situated, I drug the map out the other saddle bag and managed to decide that I was on the opposite side of the Anduin across from Gladden Fields. And to my back was…

Turning my newly acquired transportation, I stared up at the behemoth of wooded area that was Mirkwood. It was supposed to be completely clear of all the massive spiders and orcs now. I remembered reading somewhere that after the war, Lothlorien had actually cleansed the lower portion of Mirkwood and it had been a part of their kingdom for a while. So, it was safe…essentially. But beyond that…

Hadn't there been a town of friendly lake people somewhere over there? In the Hobbit, yes, they'd traveled through Mirkwood to get to Smaug. I blanched at the thought of dragons. But of course, they were all supposed to be extinct now.

_Yeah, and up until a few months ago, elves weren't even supposed to exist much less dragons or Middle Earth._ Burying that angry little voice, I clicked to Stevie Ray and began at a trot to enter Mirkwood. I needed to get away from that river, and what better way than to cross through the forest and find the friendly little lake people on the other side? There was probably a much better, much more sensible way. It was also probably the one that was telling me to find Legolas and weld myself to his side, but I couldn't bear the thought of it now.

"Come on, Stevie Ray," I said to the horse who didn't understand a single damn word I was saying, "Let's go get myself lost again. Sound like fun? Sure it does."

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:Sorry for my tardiness, guys. I hope the slightly larger chapter makes up for it. Hopefully, I'll be reeling out another of these soon. Ya'll deserve better. Ya'll have been giving me such great reviews. I've actually broke the 300 mark! It makes me happy. None of my other stories so much as edged towards the hundred mark, so you have all greatly contributed to the…uh…MusicalCharlatan Ego Fund. But don't think that means you can stop reviewing! I live on those things, so keep 'em coming! I love you all and Happy Summer!!

-MusicalCharlatan

1 "A Place For My Head" by Linkin Park; sole property of them--not me


	38. To Fail

_Pictor Ignotus_

Chapter Thirty-Eight--To Fail

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_Legolas POV_

The foul taste of my cries were still tainting my lips when I reached the river. I immediately began running along the river's edge, frantically searching for a hand, a brown head, anything in the tumultuous black depths of the Anduin that could be Iorwen. I tried yelling her name a few times, but the only answer was the roiling voice of the river that mocked me even as I searched. I didn't stop until the sun rose and I knew I'd run nearly a league down the length of the river.

Finally coming to a stop, I then worked my way back up the river, wondering if I might have missed her. I wandered the banks, looking to the waters and the soil beyond hoping to see some sign of her. But, inwardly, I was starting to realize that Iorwen had to be gone. There was no way she could have survived that fall. None whatsoever. Yet, still I walked, hugging the river, striding numbly like a thing dead, wondering how on Earth I could have let it happen.

Eventually, I came back to the cliff where she'd jumped. I stood there awhile, looking at the water, mentally playing out a scenario where she resurfaced a moment later, spluttering, very much alive, and exquisite. She would swim to shore a moment later, and I would reach down to her as she climbed up the banks, inwardly recalling her fear of heights and then admonish her for having scared me. She would then apologize and tell me that she loved me and always had. At which point, I would finally get the chance to tell her what I'd so desperately been trying to communicate before she'd jumped.

"Iorwen." Standing on the cliff edge, I looked up into the steadily brightening sky where the sun was just over the tree tops of my forest beyond. I could imagine her in my mind even now; standing in front of me as she had been only moment before, when I told her the news that would change both of our lives.

I'd noticed everything almost instantaneously the moment she'd turned away from the river to look at me. Her hair had been longer, wavier and lighter from her time spent in Middle Eath. Her gray-blue eyes had been staring back at me intelligently, determinedly; a force of nature if ever I had seen one. Her olive skin was darker and healthier looking. And then her light pink lips were pressed hard together, unimpressed with my candor even as I continued to explain.

"Iorwen…you are my other half," I said to the unresponsive air, "As an elf, I am subject to a custom where our bodies become subconsciously linked to the partner of our choosing. When I saved you at the party so many months ago, our bodies became linked without even my knowing. I did not know it until one day I realized that the only reason I survived Emyn Muil was because of your presence. Had you not been there I would have faded away to nothingness within no time. But simply by being there, you saved me. And when you left Lothlorien…" I continued on, staring into the blank sky overhead, "It became so obvious, so suddenly that I needed you. I tell you this, because…Iorwen…without you…I will die. You are the only one I would wish to spend the remainder of my life with no matter if it is only a few short years. Please, Iorwen, let me be with you. Do not leave me…"

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"Iorwen? Iorwen!" Calling out wildly, Arhem dashed through the woods. He'd already searched the village and much of the Gladden, but he knew that the last place he'd seen Iorwen heading for had been toward the Anduin.

He'd let her go last night, knowing she needed time alone with her thoughts. He'd assumed she would return shortly and he'd meant to wait up for her to make sure. However, fatigue had taken him and he'd woke that morning to find that she was still missing.

Becoming increasingly worried, Arhem called out again, hoping that nothing had happened to her during the night because he'd been foolish enough to let her wander off. What had he been thinking? Every day the warg threat grew worse and here he'd allowed Iorwen to go off during the night unattended and unarmed?

Cursing, Arhem broke through the trees and came to a screeching halt. At first he thought he was looking at Iorwen's back, but upon closer inspection he saw far too broad of shoulders to be feminine. The person was kneeling at the edge of the cliffs overlooking the Anduin and was armed with a bow and quiver and a set of long knives.

Arhem stood quietly at the edge of the trees, wondering if he should turn and flee before the stranger heard him or continue on to inquire. If the man meant trouble then there would be little fight. Arhem was unarmed and knew he would stand little chance if the man fought as well as his warrior posture suggested. But then--whoever the man was--he didn't seem malicious. Arhem lingered a moment longer at the trees before jumping when the man abruptly spoke.

"I hear you, mortal. What do you wish of me?" Standing, the stranger turned and Arhem was struck dumb at what he saw. This man was no man at all. He was an elf.

"Forgive me…Master Elf. My name is Arhem. I had no knowledge of--that is…I was only looking for someone. A girl. Have you seen her, by chance?"

The elf narrowed his eyes and Arhem couldn't help but feel mildly intimidated at the piercing look the immortal turned on him. "Forgive me, friend Arhem. I am called Legolas. Tell me, who is this girl you speak of?"

Legolas? Arhem couldn't be sure why, but that name sounded extremely familiar. "The girl? She is called Iorwen. She is rather small with light brown hair and…What ails you? You seem ill."

Even as he spoke, Legolas seemed to become paler and paler. "You knew this girl?" He replied quietly, so quietly Arhem almost didn't catch it.

The man nodded unsurely, "Aye, she was supposed to have returned before the morning, but, find her, I cannot. I worry for her safety. Wargs have been known to roam this portion of the country freely, though I am sure you know this."

Legolas looked even more ill, "It is not the wargs you need dread in this instance, I fear. This girl you speak of, Iorwen…leapt from the cliffs this very night."

Arhem couldn't hardly think of what to say. It had been the last thing on his mind. He would have never thought her capable of such a thing. Trying to stutter out a reply, Arhem glanced between the cliff and the strange, somber elf. "It canno--there is no…! She left me last night after…but she would never--why would she?!"

Legolas stared directly at Arhem, "I had rather hoped that you might be able to shed some light on that matter. Last I saw Iorwen she was hurting but certainly not suicidal."

Arhem looked questioningly at the elf, "You knew Iorwen? But…" a thought struck him and he realized immediately who it was he was speaking to, "It is you. You are the one she spoke of."

Legolas' heart leapt a little in his throat at the thought that Iorwen had spoken of him.

"You are the elf that…" Arhem trailed off, looking uncomfortable, "I am not certain I should say."

Walking forward till he was before Arhem, Legolas spoke in a low, yet urgent voice. "What did she say of me, Arhem? I must know it."

Legolas tried his best not to look anxious or desperate, but he knew this could be the knowledge that would allow some insight into Iorwen's motivation. What had happened that had convinced her that to die was the only way? Was it possible that all this was his fault?

"Arhem?" He pleaded, trying to pin the man with his gaze as he tried to look anywhere but at Legolas.

Finally the man spoke, albeit reluctantly and mildly embarrassed. "She said…she told me after we arrived in my village that she had left a company of elves. When I asked her for her reason, she said it was because she had almost fallen in love with someone who couldn't--who could never have returned her love."

Legolas had been expecting as much, but it still hurt immensely nonetheless. Iorwen had left Lothlorien thinking herself unloved and unwanted. He should have tried to make it more clear to her just how wrong she was.

"What else?" He asked a moment later, looking down at the earth.

Arhem's voice sounded remote, "Little else. Only that…well, when I--"

The sudden cessation of Arhem's speech caused Legolas to look up, brow furrowed in consternation, appearing concerned enough he had no need to ask the question that was already on his face. Arhem looked even more reluctant than before. "I had my own feelings for Iorwen. When I tried to tell her of them, she would not hear it. I asked her if it was because of you that she could not yet commit to anything, and her silence spoke for her. I told her to think on it and left her. That was last night."

"Last night?" Legolas questioned. "She left you and then came here…"

Turning to look back at the cliff, he inwardly wondered how the thought of him could have left Iorwen in such despair that she'd decided to let herself be taken by the swift waters of the Anduin. "I have failed her."

Silence pervaded in the early morning, and Arhem watched as Legolas' face morphed into such a mask of despair that he found himself looking into the same vacant pair of eyes as his sister's. It was almost tangible the way the hope seemed to drain from those eyes until all that was left was a ellon so disappointed with himself and his world that Arhem wished he could find something to help him.

"I will help you search for her. I can bring men from my village. We will find her."

Legolas turned his hollow eyes back to the man, "I fear there is no point. I have already scoured the banks for her and found nothing. Either my gods have done what she'd hoped and sent her home, or her body shall now rest in the belly of the Anduin for all eternity."

"Sent her home?" Arhem asked.

Legolas nodded, "Aye, back to where she came from."

"She never told us where exactly that was."

Legolas shook his head as he turned away, "She wouldn't."

Arhem watched in surprise as Legolas continued walking away, himself heading for the Anduin. "Wait," Legolas stopped and looked back at the man, "Where do you head?"

Arhem nearly shuddered when Legolas turned his corpse-like eyes on him and spoke, "Home."

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: Well, I've had this pretty much done for a month or so, but I think I've finally got it where I want it. Anyway, please review and keep layering on your predictions. Also, I was wondering if any of ya'll might be interested in some of my own artist renderings of my characters? Not including Legolas, obviously. Tell me what you think!

-musicalcharlatan


	39. Notice

NOTICE:

Before anyone panics, this is NOT me notifying everyone that I'm quitting the story or anything like that. I have decided that I have finally reached a spot in the story where a massive turning point has occurred. SO, what I've decided to do is start up a sequel. I just want it to feel like a whole new part of the story has begun. I will make the new chapter right after I've posted this, so chances are you won't be without the first part of the sequel for long if at all. Just go to my profile page and tell me what you think!

-MusicalCharlatan


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